"Do you know how Summer lived while you were playing princess? She worked in a factory before dawn every day. On her eighteenth birthday, she was almost sold off to some bachelor in the village!"
He stepped closer, looming over me. "And where were you? I called you a dozen times. Phone off. Were you throwing a tantrum? Or does this family mean *nothing* to you?"
I checked my call log. He was right—over a dozen missed calls.
But at that time, I had been alone in a hospital emergency room, hooked up to an IV drip. When I tried to call back later, no one answered.
As for the marriage alliance? I couldn't fathom why they were so desperate for me to meet a disabled man ten years my senior. The only appeal was his family's wealth.
My stomach gave a sharp twist. My face felt cold.
"So," I whispered, "what does this mean?"
Logan cleared his throat. He was the only one who retained a shred of pragmatism. "By rights, now that Summer is back, you should return to your original home."
"However," Logan continued, pausing to weigh his words, "I found that your mother died early, and your father's whereabouts are unknown."