hina'

esn't say

irst thing t

ill sitting on the tray like a death sentence. Not

his s

im. Really

ore than my entire childhood home. His hair is neat. His face is calm. Too calm. His

throat burns when I say

th beside him. "There's nothing to say," s

t. Julian, tell her she's wrong. Tell her

etal tray. "Do not say our baby," she

t my eyes st

I wasn't feeling well. You knew I asked t

almost bored. He doesn't come closer. He doesn't touch me. "That

rt stu

whisper. "I told you

garet cuts in. "You were always dramatic.

That's not true. J

es. F

he does

no lov

fort. Irritati

rgaret, "the press can't hear about

omach

t's

ll he ca

voice barely holding toget

rubbing his fo

," I corre

he name tastes foreign now. "This marri

st tig

y you," I remind him.

eats mockingly. "Don't be naive.

doesn't

d end like this," he says.

I whisper. "I

snaps. "Do you know what people would say if they found

old settles

's what

ag

ga

gr

pa

t

her," I say to

what's best,

sound. "You mean w

sn't a

with this. "She'll sign the papers,

," I protest. "I can'

ly. "You managed to ruin our bloodline

nto fists. "You

says sweetly, "

echoes in

pos

uncomfortable. "Mom,

ly. "The longer she stays

lk out that door," I say, "don't ever pr

hin line. "I'll have my

have a

standing near the door, securi

er out,"

gasp. "You

grabs my arm

cry, panic rushing t

urns

omething inside me

gs buckle. Pain shoots through

aby!" I scream. "

ile. "Mercy is a privilege," sh

oors

llway

me look away. No

barely touching the floor,

, just once,

is alre

ors, the cold air slamming into my skin as