Dora seemed frozen too, staring at her own hand as if it belonged to someone else.
"Ha."
I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth and let out a hollow laugh, stepping closer to her.
Guy immediately threw himself between us like a hen guarding her chick, arms spread wide in what he clearly imagined was a heroic stance.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Even if Ms. Fox hit you, you deserved it! You're the one who couldn't keep it in your pants—you betrayed her first!"
I looked at his self-righteous display.
I was so tired. Bone-deep exhausted.
"You keep claiming I filmed obscene videos overseas," I said evenly. "Where's your proof?"
"Young man, you think you can just flap your lips and spread whatever lies you want?"
Murmurs rippled through the guests.
"He has a point—you can't just take one person's word for something like this."
Guy bit his lip, doing his best impression of a wronged martyr standing tall against injustice.
"Fine. You asked for this."
He pulled out his phone and connected it to the venue's main screen.
The photo of Dora and me—our engagement portrait, the two of us smiling—vanished. In its place, a video began to play.