The boutique door swung open, and Vanessa emerged, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. She spotted me, her eyes narrowing.

“How could you?” she demanded, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fury.

I met her gaze evenly, the sting on my cheek a fading memory. “How could I not?” I replied, my voice calm and steady. “You can’t slap away consequences like you did my help.”

For a moment, she looked like she might argue, but then something in her demeanor changed. Maybe it was the resolute set of my jaw or the unwavering look in my eyes. She didn’t apologize; that would have been too much to hope for. But she didn’t scream or cry, either. Instead, she stood there, silent and simmering.