Grant's anger drained away almost instantly, replaced by a cold, creeping horror as he processed exactly what he'd nearly consumed moments earlier, exactly what his bride — the woman he'd been prepared to spend the rest of his life with — had apparently attempted to do to him in front of their entire wedding celebration.
He looked back at the waitress, who remained standing before him, her expression calm but watchful, clearly uncertain how he would respond now that the truth had been laid bare in front of him.
The ballroom around them had fallen into an increasingly heavy, uncertain silence, several nearby guests beginning to register that whatever had just unfolded carried far more weight than a simple accidental spill.
Grant's voice, when he finally spoke, came out hushed, barely audible even in the quiet ballroom, carrying the full, overwhelming weight of what he'd just narrowly avoided.
"You saved my life," he said quietly, staring at the stranger who had, moments ago, simply been another member of the catering staff — and who had just, without hesitation or expectation of thanks, stopped whatever Isabelle had been planning before it could be carried out.