Owen spotted Olivia as she stepped back into the hall and approached her with a glass of champagne. "Where have you been?" he asked, offering her the glass.
Olivia took it with a cold smile, her tone dismissive as her hand tightened around the stem. "You've lost the right to ask me that."
Without another word, she tried to walk past him, but Owen caught her arm, his grip firm. He leaned in close, his expression neutral but his tone mocking. "All this because I made one mistake?"
Her gaze held his, barely concealing her fury. "Not one mistake, Owen. But it's because you chose a significant night—and my best friend—to shatter what we had."
Owen clenched his jaw, his tone sharpening as his grip tightened. "I told you, I drank too much. I wasn't thinking clearly. But I'm already paying the price. My conscience has been eating me up, Olivia. Do you really need to punish me more?"