"My mother called me from Switzerland this afternoon! She's on vacation!"
"And you have the audacity to curse her with a kidnapping? Ella Swanson, how rotten is your heart?"
The slap cracked across my face.
White-hot pain exploded through my cheek, my ears ringing, the taste of copper blooming at the corner of my mouth.
Florence stood off to the side, fanning the flames, her eyes glistening with a perfectly rehearsed look of hurt innocence.
"Chester, don't be angry. Ella's probably just lost her mind from panic."
She paused, letting the words land before twisting the knife.
"It's just... your mother is such an elegant woman. How could anyone compare her to Ella's gambling addict of a mother? Ella isn't even worthy of carrying your mother's shoes."
Chester wiped his hand on my clothes with a look of open disgust, as if he'd touched something filthy.
"Hold her down," he ordered the guards. "Since she loves putting on a show so much, let her watch the kidnapper kill her mother in real time."
That was when his executive assistant, Bradley Simms, called in on the emergency line.
"Mr. Henson, the chairwoman's personal phone has been unreachable. We have a serious situation at the office."