"Clara, don't go!"
She whipped around to face her son, her expression hardening in an instant.
"Ian, apologize to Clara right now. Stop this nonsense!"
Ian's fingers stayed locked around Nadia's hand. He didn't move. Violet lowered her voice, each word weighted with dread.
"You know exactly why the Delgado men have married into their clan for generations. Thirty years ago, your uncle broke that rule. On his thirtieth birthday, a semi-truck crushed him beyond recognition."
"And your third uncle—he called off his engagement with the same fearless look on your face right now. The moment he blew out his birthday candles, blood poured from every orifice and he dropped dead."
"Your birthday is three days away. You are signing your own death warrant. Now apologize to Clara—"
"Enough, Mom!"
"Uncle died in a traffic accident. Third Uncle had a heart attack. What the hell does any of that have to do with some marriage superstition?"
Ian cut her off, impatience etched across every feature. He jabbed a finger in my direction and let out a derisive scoff.
"Marriage pact? Curse? It's a con. Tailor-made to bleed our family dry."