“Mom…” she whispered.
I crossed the room and held her close.
Her whole body trembled like a frightened child.
Then laughter came from behind me.
“She has always been dramatic.”
I turned slowly.
In the doorway stood her husband, Ethan Prescott, his mother, Margaret Prescott, and Ethan’s older brother, Brandon Prescott.
Designer suits.
Luxury watches.
Perfect smiles.
And arrogance written across every face.
Margaret wore diamond earrings and a smile cold enough to chill the room.
“Colonel Hart,” she said smoothly, “your daughter had an emotional episode. She fell. No one touched her.”
Emily clutched my sleeve.
“No, Mom. They kept me in the guest house. They took my phone. They said if I left Ethan, they would destroy my reputation.”