Before I could breathe, Jackson appeared at the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone lazy, uninterested, like a man who already expected disappointment.
“She threw away her ring,” Oliver said flatly.
Jackson let out a chuckle. “Seriously, Mom? You’re throwing tantrums at your age? Come on. Just let her be, Dad. She’s probably bored again.”
And then Beatrice’s voice slithered in from behind them, soft, coated in false concern. “Don’t be harsh on her, Oliver. She probably just feels neglected.” She turned to me, that sweet smile on her lips that only I knew was poison. “Don’t worry, sister. I’ll buy you something from the cruise. Maybe that will make you happy.”
Their laughter pricked at my ears, stabbing deeper than any knife. But what broke me was Coreen, my sweet grandchild, staring at me with wide eyes before pouting. “Why are you such a crybaby, Granny?”
The words hit like a slap. My breath caught, but I forced myself to stay still, to stay calm. I shut my lips tightly and turned to leave.
But Oliver’s voice cracked like a whip. “Wait. Where do you think you’re going? Go pack our things now.”