"Yes, she's a maid at my house," Mark replied in a flat, cold tone, repeating his lie in public. "She's serving her punishment for the careless mistake she made."
Seren slowly looked up. But when her eyes met Mark's—there was only a vast, deep emptiness there—enough to make anyone who saw it feel suffocated.
Seren's hands trembled so violently that the crystal glasses on the tray she held began to clink—creating a sorrowful tinkling sound in the suffocating silence of the party.
Mark remained standing with his chin held high. He held his whiskey glass steadily, trying to maintain his mask of arrogance in front of Mr. Winston and the other socialite guests. For him, acknowledging Seren as his wife in the midst of her current disheveled state was social suicide. His Valerius ego was far greater than his sense of humanity.
