The aftermath of Owen's breakdown hit the room like a cold wave. Within seconds, the dynamics shifted completely.
"Well," Edward Bennett cleared his throat, his voice carrying newfound authority. "I think we all got a bit carried away with Owen's... theatrical performance."
I watched the family patriarch distance himself with surgical precision. The man who'd been fawning over Owen minutes earlier now spoke as if addressing a stranger.
"Clearly the wine went to his head," Amelia added dismissively. "Men of his... background... aren't accustomed to quality vintages."
The speed of their betrayal was breathtaking. Owen looked up from his tear-streaked face, confusion replacing despair.
"But I thought... we were friends," he whispered.
Uncle Victor let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Friends? Owen, we barely know each other."
"You invited me to dinner. Called me family."
"That was business courtesy," Victor replied coldly. "Nothing more."
