"Don't rush. Let's eat first, then I'll tell you." Anne's tone carried the calm confidence of someone with everything under control.
The dinner spread was lavish—seafood, steak, foie gras, caviar—an array fit for a grand occasion. But the more lavish the meal, and the more effusive Anne's hospitality grew, the more uneasy Giselle became.
Just a few days earlier at the hospital, Anne had attacked her with seething hatred. How could her attitude have shifted so drastically in only a few days?
What game was she playing now? Was this some kind of trap? A banquet laid like a snare? Could the food have been poisoned? But looking around at the others' faces, none showed suspicion. They ate naturally enough.
Giselle, filled with doubt, sat down anyway. If Anne wanted to stage something, she would see for herself.
Once they began, Anne poured half a glass of red wine for Giselle and then for herself. Rising to her feet, she raised her glass in Giselle's direction.
"Giselle, I know I've done far too many things to hurt you. A simple 'sorry' could never undo that pain. But at this point, I still want to try to repair our bond as sisters. I hope you can forgive me. This glass is for you."
She tipped the wine back in one gulp.
Her words, paired with that look of sorrow and repentance, caught Giselle off guard. If Anne's remorse was an act, then her performance deserved an award. Even Renee looked baffled, wondering how her carefully raised daughter had suddenly capitulated so completely.
A scene like this was exactly what Tony wanted to see. He stepped in to coax Giselle.
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