A flicker of pity crossed my face before I could stop it. Elliot caught it, and for a second he looked thrown off, as though he assumed his words had wounded me.
He leaned in again, whispering against my ear. "I know things must have been rough for you since you got out of prison. How about this: I'll set you up with a place to stay. Every weekend, I'll come visit you. And if you behave yourself, maybe I'll stay a few extra days."
"Get lost."
I had no interest in entangling myself with Elliot Sanchez ever again. Dudley would be home any minute now.
All I wanted was to surprise my husband.
I turned and started walking away. But the moment I passed Gladys, her leg shot out.
Crack.
I hit the ground hard. The box in my pocket flew out and skidded across the floor.
I tried to push myself up, but the pain that tore through my knees was impossible to ignore.
Through the haze, I heard the whispers starting up again.
"That box looks awfully expensive. How would a servant have something like that? She probably stole it from the Farleys."
Elliot stared at the box, his expression calculating. He clearly believed them. In his mind, I'd stolen it from somewhere.