"You were the one who knelt in the rain begging me to marry you. Begging for my family's money to bail you out of bankruptcy."
"Now that the crisis is over, you want to play the devoted lover? Is that it?"
Maxwell cupped his cheek, staring at me like he couldn't process what just happened.
"You actually hit me."
"And I'll do it again if that's what it takes to knock some sense into that thick skull."
I couldn't stomach his face for another second. I turned on my heel and headed for the stairs.
The moment I reached the landing, a sound rose from below. My daughter Lily Abbott, screaming and sobbing like her heart was being ripped apart.
My chest seized. I flew down the steps, taking them two and three at a time.
In the living room, Antonia Henson sat perched on a sofa surrounded by wreckage.
Her burn-scarred face was twisted with malice, and she held a glass-handled feather duster in her grip.
A long, bloody gash ran down Lily's arm. The little girl was huddled in the corner, trembling.
Every drop of blood in my body surged straight to my skull.
"Antonia, you're dead."
I charged forward, ripped the duster from her hand, and swung it hard across her back.