Oliver’s hand wavered over the touchpad, the arrow on the screen hovering over the file that contained the damning—or exonerating—evidence. “What if I’m wrong?”, he thought, “What if my suspicions are just figments of an overactive imagination?”.
Just as he was about to click the file open, a booming voice filled the room: “Ladies and gentlemen, could we have your attention, please? Time for a toast to the newlyweds!”. The castle erupted in applause and the clinking of glasses, cutting through the thick tension between Oliver and Anna like a knife.