The party’s attention had turned to the stairs. A feminine silhouette crossed into their line of sight, her hair disheveled and blocking half of her face.
But Arianne knew who she was. It was Janice Bell, again.
The first thing that came to Arianne’s mind was her annoyance at meeting that woman yet again. But when she noticed the blue-black spot at the corner of Janice’s lips, a new understanding — that things might not be as simple as they were last time — dawned on her.
Janice’s injuries, barefaced as they were, prompted Seaton to drag the strange man upstairs by the collar, his well-maintained image abandoned in the midst of his fury. No one knew what happened next up there, as Seaton had not emerged since then. Quickly, whispers began to fill the hall.
Janice remained still on the stairs. Even when the guests murmured among themselves, stealing glances and pointing fingers, she stood as wooden as a marionette, her unblinking eyes trained on Mark, as though they were never going to move away from him.
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