The pain in my fingers was unbearable. I wrenched my hand free with all my strength.
"Ah!"
Patricia screamed as she lost her balance and tumbled backward down the stairs.
"Patricia!"
Weston's voice roared through the hall just as he walked in. He rushed forward and caught her limp body at the bottom of the staircase.
Through trembling lips, Patricia sobbed, "Sister...why did you push me?"
The world froze.
When I lifted my gaze, I met Weston's. His expression was dark, thunderclouds gathering behind his eyes.
I knew that look too well—it was the same one he wore before he destroyed anyone who crossed him.
I backed away, trembling. "I didn't...she tried to burn the baby clothes I made...I just wanted to stop her."
"You know how important those clothes were to me…" My voice cracked. "I didn't push her—she fell by herself!"
But Weston was already consumed by rage.
"Just a few scraps of fabric are more important to you than your sister's life?" he snarled. "Do you even know she's pregnant? How could you be so cruel?"
"Didn't I warn you never again?"
I tried to step back, but before I could move, Weston's hand shot out—pushing me hard.
"No!"