Chester saw the situation turning and immediately stepped in front of me.
I glanced at my phone, then held up one finger.
"Fine. I'll remember every one of you. But I should warn you—you have one minute left."
Alberta froze for a second, then burst into wild, mocking laughter.
"What, you think in one minute my husband's going to walk through that door and take your side over mine? Side with some pathetic loser?"
"You really won't cry until you see your own coffin, will you?" She waved her hand dismissively. "What are you waiting for? Get him!"
The men lunged forward.
At that exact moment, the private room door was kicked open from outside with a deafening crash.
"Everyone—STOP!"
It was Damien Cross, the owner of Pinecrest Pavilion.
And right behind him stood Alberta's husband, Francis Pruitt.
