Burn Me Once Burn With Me (Ruby Grayson) novel Chapter 424

Gennifer rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder she didn’t faint, utterly exasperated by Townsend’s audacity.

Garrison waited patiently for Townsend to finish before rising from his seat. With a gentle, apologetic smile, he nodded toward Gennifer. “Miss Gennifer, my apologies. Townsend is still young and tends to speak his mind a bit too freely. I hope you’ll forgive him.”

Gennifer’s expression softened—just a little—at Garrison’s words. She straightened, ready to retort, but caught Cassian’s shadowy gaze from her side. Her fingers clenched tighter, and she forced herself to appear composed. “And what about you, Ruby? My birth mother lost her life saving my mom. Indirectly, you’re someone my family helped. So why would you show up wearing something so… attention-seeking? Isn’t that rude?”

Her cheeks burned with indignation.

Ruby, however, seemed entirely unfazed by Gennifer’s anger. She just shrugged, almost bored. “I didn’t see any dress code on the invitation.”

Sylas jumped in immediately, smirking. “Exactly. I didn’t see one either. Unless you’re planning to throw us out?”

Garrison gave Gennifer a polite smile. “They’re just kids, Miss Gennifer. Please, do let Mr. Grayson know we hope he’ll be patient with them.”

It was only then, as Gennifer met Garrison’s gaze, that she realized his gentle words cut sharper than any blade.

Everyone here was an adult—except, perhaps, for Townsend. Garrison had brushed her off with a casual excuse, as if she could be so easily placated.

The more Gennifer thought about it, the darker her mood became.

Everyone in this circle seemed to orbit around Ruby. Outside their group, the mourners wore somber blacks and grays, but these people seemed determined to be noticed. The only one dressed with any restraint was Garrison, clad in pale ivory.

Suddenly, Townsend, who had been sipping wine with affected nonchalance, let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oops! Sorry! Bro—Mr. Cloud!”

He tipped his glass, splashing deep red wine all over Garrison’s white suit.

Those nearby gasped and rushed to help, dabbing at the stain with napkins. Thankfully, Garrison’s suit was made from a special, stain-resistant fabric. With a few wipes, the wine vanished from the surface.

But the liquid had already seeped into the fabric, and as it spread, intricate patterns began to reveal themselves beneath the pristine white—shimmering with cool, blue-green undertones, like a hidden design suddenly set ablaze.

What had been an understated suit now drew every eye in the room.

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