Chapter 73: Loud Evidence

The air changed in a heartbeat.The arguing stopped. The sharp voices faded. It felt like the room had drawn in a single breath and forgotten how to let it out. Every gaze turned back to me, heavy and sharp, like I was standing in the center of a circle.

I opened my mouth to speak, ready to defend myself again, but Lewis stepped forward before I could say a word.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t raise his voice.

He simply moved.

And somehow, that was enough to quiet everyone.

"Good," he said calmly, his tone steady but firm. "This couldn’t have come at a better time. We have everything we need to end this."

Theo gave a short nod and rolled the projector into place. The lights dimmed, and the screen flickered on.

What appeared made my fingers curl slightly at my side.

The footage was clear. Too clear.

Camilla stood by the refreshment table, her back half-turned to the room. She glanced around once. Then again. Her posture was tense, careful. When she thought no one was watching, she reached into her clutch and tipped something into a glass of orange juice.

Her movements were smooth. Practiced.

I felt a cold calm settle over me as I watched. She knew my habits. She always had. I never drank much at events like this. Maybe a sip if someone toasted, but after that, I always reached for juice. Safe. Familiar. Something I could control.

She remembered that.

She counted on it.

She believed she was smarter than everyone else in the room.

What she didn’t know was that eyes were always watching here. Quiet ones. Loyal ones. Nothing slipped past this house without being seen.

Every look she gave. Every second she hesitated. Every drop that fell into that glass was captured.

And then fate did something cruelly perfect.

The drink meant for me became hers.

I didn’t react. I just watched as the truth played out on the wall.

Lewis had never planned to turn the footage against me. He didn’t need to. As far as anyone outside this circle would know, Camilla had poisoned her own drink. No one would ever see the switch Jane made for me. No one would know how her own scheme had circled back and bitten her.

It felt like balance.

Like the world correcting itself.

The Morrigans looked like statues.

Vivian’s hand flew to her mouth. Her voice trembled. "How... how could she do this? What was she thinking?"

Malcom stood frozen beside her, face drained of color. He looked like a man seeing a stranger where his daughter used to be. Someone he no longer recognized.

Grant let out a sharp, humorless laugh. He had been murmuring to Lena moments ago, but now his eyes were fixed on the screen.

"So this is the innocent daughter you’ve been praising?" he sneered. "Pregnant, yet slipping drugs into drinks. Who was she trying to pull tonight?"

That word hung heavy in the air.

Several people shifted. A few glanced toward the empty space where Julian should’ve been.

If he was her target, then none of this made sense.

Why poison herself?

But the truth didn’t need every answer to be clear.

What mattered was what everyone had seen.

Camilla had started this.

And no amount of shouting, blaming, or pretending could erase what was burned into that screen.

Grant caught the shift in the room and took advantage of it right away. The Morrigans looked shaken, their pride bruised and their voices gone. That alone seemed to amuse him.

He leaned closer to Malcom with a crooked smile. "The night’s still young," he said quietly. "No outsiders around. Feels like the perfect time to settle our little wager, don’t you think?"

Malcom’s jaw tightened. His face burned with shame and anger, but he didn’t push back. He couldn’t. Grant enjoyed this too much the feeling of standing higher, pressing his foot down just a little harder.

Before it could turn uglier, Lewis spoke.

"Enough," he said.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the room cleanly. "Save your games for another time, Grant. That’s not what matters right now."

The Morrigans exhaled, almost in relief. For a brief second, they seemed to believe Lewis was stepping in to smooth things over. That he might still be standing with them.

They were wrong.

Lewis lifted his gaze to Malcom, then slowly let it pass over Vivian and the rest of the Morrigans. His expression darkened, the warmth draining away.

"What matters," he said evenly, "is that earlier tonight, you insulted my mate. In front of everyone. I won’t let that slide."

The room went stiff.

"Mr. Morrigan," Lewis continued, his tone cold and steady, "you and your family owe her a proper apology."

Silence fell like a weight.

They had mistaken his restraint for indifference. Now they understood the truth he hadn’t been choosing sides. He’d been waiting.

Malcom’s face twisted as he tried to cling to what little pride he had left. "Lewis," he said carefully, "our families are tied. We were once close... because of Elena. Surely you can "

The sound cut him off.

Lewis’s hand slammed down on the table.

The crack echoed through the room. A platter of fruit flew off the edge, hitting the floor and scattering in every direction. People flinched, some stepping back without even realizing it.

I felt my pulse jump.

Lewis had always been calm. Controlled. The kind of man whose authority came from silence, not noise.

But this?

This was something else.

He straightened slowly, towering, his presence pressing down on the room. The air felt heavier, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. His eyes were cold now, sharp and merciless.

Even I wasn’t ready for it.

"Don’t," he said quietly, each word precise, "ever say her name like that."

His voice dropped lower, carrying something raw beneath the anger. "You don’t get to use Elena’s death as a shield or a weapon. What did she ever owe you?"

That was when I understood.

It was old pain, buried deep and never truly healed.

Lewis looked at the Morrigans as if they weren’t people anymore just obstacles standing in his way. His gaze alone was enough to strip away their confidence.

No one spoke. No one moved.

He didn’t raise his voice again. He didn’t have to.

"I’ll say this once," he said. "You will kneel and apologize to my mate. Properly. If you refuse, don’t expect to leave this house on your feet."

The threat wasn’t loud.

It was absolute.

And everyone in the room knew Lewis meant every single word.