"That's not true!" Rebecca said through gritted teeth, staring at me.

"That expression looks familiar," I said. "Wasn't that the same one you had last month when you found out your husband was seeing a college student?"

"Alright, let's take it down a notch," Sebastian said, wiping his mouth after finishing his food and stepping in as the peacemaker.

"We're all classmates. Brianna, accusations like bullying aren't something you can just throw around. Back then, everyone saw how Melissa treated you. You can't just say things like that without evidence."

"There weren't any cameras in the storage room. What evidence could she even—"

Vexana stopped short, realizing too late that she had let something slip, and instinctively glanced at Melissa.

Melissa, on the other hand, turned on Sebastian with a furious glare.

Sebastian immediately put on an innocent expression.

Everyone at the table understood what that unfinished sentence implied. Murmurs spread almost immediately.

"So it really happened? I didn't expect her to be that kind of person."

"Bullying can land you in jail. Doing something like that at such a young age is frightening. It's a good thing I never crossed her."

The discussion was still building when Zachary slammed his hand down on the table. The sudden sound made the glass in front of me shake, and the wine nearly spilled.

"Brianna, that's enough!" he said. "We're all classmates. There's no need to keep pressing people over trivial matters from the past."

Melissa looked at him with obvious gratitude, her expression soft and shy.

He was trying to play the hero. How ridiculous.

"I was too busy dealing with those bitches that I forgot about you for a moment."

I pulled out the injury assessment, medical records, and therapy notes from my bag and slammed the thick stack down in front of him.

"Being bullied, falsely accused, used like a tool, driven to self-harm, and nearly ending my own life—were they all trivial matters?"

"I…"

Zachary's face flushed red, and he couldn't say anything else.

Those who had been whispering moments earlier all fell silent, covering their mouths as they exchanged looks.

"Zachary, every single one of these things was a nightmare I can never forget," I said.

"Hey, Brianna, can you get this straight?" someone said impatiently. "This is a class reunion, not some kind of public trial. Can't we just eat in peace?"

I turned to look at the speaker. It was Jackson Wright, the class secretary.

Back in high school, he'd never held back when it came to verbally abusing me. He used to say my bob haircut hurt his eyes, that I walked around all day with a blank expression and a sickly yellow face, like something not quite human.

The insecurity that haunted me for years had his name written all over it.

Now, looking at him again, he had slicked-back hair, a bloated face, and a protruding beer belly that even his oversized suit couldn't hide.

Years had passed, but he was just as unpleasant as ever.

"Fine," I said. "Anyone who'd rather not hear old stories is welcome to leave. Just tell the front desk my name, and they'll set you up with a complimentary bottle of premium red wine on me. Consider it my apology."

"Can I pick it up after this is over?" Sebastian asked, raising his hand and clearly enjoying the chaos.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Of course."

That only made everyone even less willing to leave. After all, who didn't want to hear gossip about the former stars of the class?

"Mention your name? Who do you think you are?" Jackson sneered. "This is one of the top restaurants in Nadoria. A bottle of wine here costs at least a few thousand, if not tens of thousands. You run a small company and think you can just give it away? You really think you're capable of that?"

Having been embarrassed earlier, he refused to let it go.

I glanced around and saw that the others were watching eagerly and waiting for my reaction.

Noticing the server who had been standing nearby for a while, I waved him over. "You tell him. Am I capable of doing that or not?"

"Of course, you are, Ms. Shore."