I didn't say a word. Just walked into the private room.

Two steps in—ran straight into Jason.

"Ethan, let's get this straight. Stop hanging around Summer. She's my wife now. Don't think I don't see through this little dinner stunt. If your life's a mess, that's your problem. Quit using 'family' as an excuse to creep into ours. Cut the crap. You're only making us hate you more."

I raised a brow. No point arguing.

"Noted."

***

After Summer and Jason left, the spotlight finally swung to my family.

Uncle Tony jumped in first. "Kelly, Brian, this wasn't some big event—why host a family dinner outta nowhere?"

My parents shared a grin, then grabbed my hand. "Actually, we've got some good news. Thought we'd celebrate with everyone."

I was just about to spill it when the door flew open.

Jason stormed in, fuming.

"Ethan, did you smash Summer's violin? That thing's worth like 800 grand!"

Summer rushed in after him, clutching the wrecked violin, eyes blazing.

"I actually felt sorry for you and tried to help—and this is how you repay me? You trashed my violin at the front desk! How could you be such a jerk, Ethan?"

I looked at the thing. A few busted strings, some nasty scratches. It wasn't totaled, but it definitely wasn't looking concert-ready.

I stayed chill. "I never even touched it. If you've got time to throw shade, maybe use it to check the security cams and find out who actually did it."

I was wiped. Just wanted to drop the news and bounce.

But Jason kept pushing. "Summer and I always have security with us. The violin was left at the front desk. You're the only one who went out there. It had to be you."

The relatives freaked and jumped in.

"Ethan, you're the only one who left. Just apologize to Summer and Jason. We're family—they'll let it go."

"Yeah, come on! That thing's worth $800k! If they make you pay, you're screwed. Just say sorry and be done with it!"

Jason tilted his head, eyes ice cold. "Tell you what—kneel and apologize, and I'll cut you a deal. Just pay a hundred grand."

Summer chimed in fast.

"Say sorry the right way, and I'll forgive you. Otherwise, see you in court."

I shoved down the heat bubbling up, rubbed my temples.

"I already said it wasn't me. If you really think it was, go ahead—call the cops."

The arguing pulled in the hotel staff, but none of them stepped in.

Every server had gathered at the door—quiet, waiting.

Then a woman slid in, hugging me from behind.

With a calm, clear voice, she asked, "Babe, what's going on here?"