Caroline wanted to shake him, beg him to finally stand up for her—but she knew better. Walter Harrington had surrendered long ago.
As the sun sank, Victoria clapped sharply.
“Everyone! To the stone fire pit! Time for a very special family tradition!”
Caroline frowned. “We’ve never had fire-pit traditions,” she whispered.
The guests gathered around the roaring flames. The heat was intense.
Victoria stood before the fire, the orange glow bending her face into something dark.
“Caroline,” she ordered. “Bring the baby.”
“She’s sleeping, Mom.”
“Bring her. It is time to present her to the ancestors.”
It was bizarre. But with thirty guests watching, Caroline stepped forward.
“Let me hold her,” Victoria said, extending her arms.
A siren of instinct screamed inside Caroline—but she handed Emma over.
Victoria held the baby stiffly, like something contaminated. Sabrina drifted closer, refilling her wine.
“You gave birth before your sister,” Victoria declared loudly. “You violated the sacred order of our family.”
Guests murmured. The air tightened.
“Mom, stop this,” Caroline said.
“You humiliated your sister,” Sabrina hissed. “You stole the life she deserved.”
Victoria lifted Emma higher. The baby began to cry.