"You don't deserve him. Grayson, Samuel, they're both mine. They always have been, and they always will be!"
"You'll never be worthy of standing by his side, and you sure as hell don't deserve the title of Godfather Rowe's wife!"
My arm was still pressed against the ice-cold display case, a dull ache throbbing through it. Before I could even process her vicious words, Selene suddenly seized my wrist in a death grip and used my own momentum to fling herself backward, crumpling gracefully onto the cashmere rug beside the display.
She curled into herself, her eyes reddening instantly, tears glistening on the verge of spilling. Just like that, she'd transformed into the picture of fragile innocence.
"Lois, I wasn't saying your photos were bad. I just wanted to ask if you could try a different angle to capture the grain on the raw stones... Never mind, I was being presumptuous. Please don't be upset..."
The words had barely left her lips when the door to the private room slammed open. Samuel strode in, took one look at the scene before him, and hurled the custom glass tumbler in his hand to the floor. The sound of shattering glass cut through the air like a scream.