“Hey there, Daisie. Feeling any better?” Kendra mocked.
Daisie’s eyes reddened. She glared at Kendra, the hatred in her chest so fierce she could barely breathe.
Kendra didn’t seem to care. She sat at the bedside, crossed one leg over the other with casual ease, and lounged as if she were visiting a friend’s home, not a hospital.
“I heard… you’re planning to leave?”
Daisie’s heart tightened.
How did she know? Was she just guessing, or had someone told her?
Leaning closer, Kendra lowered her voice. “Don’t kid yourself. You really think that old woman’s going to help you? If she dares send you away behind her son’s back, Willard will turn against her in a second.”
Daisie felt her world drop as she realized that Kendra knew. Of course, she knew.
“But,” Kendra’s tone shifted, and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger, “if you really want to go, it’s not impossible.”
Daisie kept her eyes locked on her, waiting for the catch.