Arthur slowly turned his head. I was still sitting on the floor in the foyer, leaning against the wall. Blood was drying on my chin, my cheek was swelling rapidly, and I was clutching my empty stomach. But my eyes were clear.
“He’s not worth it, Dad,” I whispered.
Arthur looked back down at the pathetic creature squirming under his boot. The rage in the General’s eyes warred with his strategic mind. He knew I was right.
Slowly, deliberately, Arthur lowered his left foot. He lifted his boot off Leo’s throat, stepping back from the shattered glass.
Leo gasped violently, sucking in massive, ragged lungfuls of air. He rolled onto his side among the glass shards, coughing and sobbing uncontrollably, clutching his broken wrist. The arrogant husband who had demanded dinner five minutes ago was now a broken, crying mess on his own living room floor.
Helen remained frozen on the couch, too terrified to even breathe loudly.