Through the gaps in my arms, I saw her face. Eyes tightly shut. A single, silent tear leaking from the corner of her eye.
Her hand—which had been gripping mine—went limp and slipped to the floor.
Olivia stood frozen, watching. I saw her waver. A half-step forward. A flicker of conscience battling her obsession.
"Olivia! Make them stop!" My voice cracked. "Mom is dying! She loved you like a daughter—how can you do this to her?"
"Don't listen to his nonsense." Spencer's hand landed on her shoulder, smooth and steady. "Don't sympathize with him. It's all an act."
His words froze her in place.
"Damn it," she muttered. Her eyes hardened again. "I knew you were lying."
In that instant, whatever love I had left for Olivia Swanson turned to ash.
A roar tore from my chest—raw, primal, pure rage. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled up, grabbed a jagged shard of broken vase, and slashed it through the air at the guards surrounding me.
The guards scrambled back, startled by the murderous look in my eyes.
"Come on!" I brandished the shard, blood dripping from my forehead. "If you're not afraid to die, come and get me!"
No one wanted to risk their life against a madman. They parted like the Red Sea.