POV AmyWarren choked. The red wine he was drinking shot up his throat, making him cough violently. The guttural sound of his gagging echoed through the dining room; tense silence minutes earlier now exploded into a nervous murmur.Disapproving eyes fixed on me, especially from Warren’s family, who seemed to judge me for causing such an awkward scene. Alice, his mother, rushed to help Warren, patting his back with exaggerated concern that, to me, looked like a performance for the audience. Warren took too long to catch his breath, his face red and his eyes a mix of shock and outrage.Inside, I celebrated. My plan had hit its target with surgical precision. I imagined Simon, wherever he was, enjoying Warren’s exposed desperation. This was only the first step.Aser, Warren’s father, a business executive with a permanently clenched jaw, abruptly rose from the table, throwing his linen napkin onto his plate with an irritated sound.“Amy,” he began, his voice rough and authoritative, “you
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