I took one step toward their table, my hand tightening around the gift bag.
Every part of me wanted to walk over, throw the watch at him, and demand an answer in front of everyone. I wanted his perfect little lie to collapse loudly, publicly, and immediately.
But before I could move again, a firm hand caught my arm.
“Don’t,” a man whispered beside me. “Stay calm. The real show is about to start.”
I turned sharply, ready to pull away.
He was tall, well-dressed, and pale in a way that told me he had been standing in the same kind of pain for far longer than a minute.
“Who are you?” I asked.
His eyes moved from me to the woman across from Andrew.
“Daniel Mercer,” he said quietly. “That’s my wife.”