The veins on the back of his hand stood out against the bone.
"Wrong?"
"The engagement was arranged by your grandmother and my grandmother. You agreed to the wedding. And now you're saying it was wrong?"
"I changed my mind. Is that not allowed?"
I was getting irritated.
"Sylvester, you can't force something that isn't there. A man with your credentials doesn't need to waste his time on me. Word gets out, it won't do your reputation any favors either."
Sylvester stared at me, unblinking. The rims of his eyes slowly turned red.
Then he spun around and strode toward the display cabinet in the corner of the conservatory.
An antique pistol sat on one of the shelves, a Farley family heirloom passed down through generations.
He snatched it up so fast that even the bodyguard beside him didn't have time to react.
He raised the gun. The cold metal barrel pressed against his own temple.
"If you walk out that door today, or say the word 'divorce' one more time—"
He looked me straight in the eyes. His hand was steady, but his voice shook.
"I'll pull the trigger."
Matriarch Farley gasped. "Sylvester! Have you lost your mind?"
I smiled.
He'd pulled this exact stunt in my last life.