"Rose, remember this. Sylvester is your husband now. Don't bring up divorce again."
"...Understood." I forced the word through clenched teeth.
Matriarch Farley looked at Sylvester last, her tone softening slightly.
"Sylvester, you've had quite a scare today. Stay here at the estate and rest. Tomorrow, Rose will come to take you home."
Sylvester's grip on the pistol loosened. His eyes flicked to me, then to the two elders, and slowly, he set the gun down.
It hit the Persian rug with a soft click.
He lowered his head, his voice hoarse. "Alright."
A bodyguard stepped forward immediately to retrieve the weapon, and the butler hurried over to steady him.
As he turned to leave, his gaze lingered on me for a beat.
I looked away.
My grandmother glared at me, ice in her eyes.
"What are you standing there for? Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough? Come on. We're going home."
The moment we settled into the car, every trace of anger vanished from my grandmother's face.
She frowned and looked me over.
"Did I actually hurt you? Let me see. If your grandfather notices when we get back, he'll never let me hear the end of it."
My grandparents were devoted to each other in a way that bordered on ridiculous.