The servants forced me to my knees in the snow. The cold bit through to the bone, spreading from my kneecaps through every inch of my body. My lips went white. My abdomen cramped in waves, each one dragging me closer to blacking out. I dug my nails into my palms just to stay conscious.
Inside the house, the warm glow of a happy family. Benedict was bouncing the baby in his arms. "Lawrence, Daddy's gonna make you fly!"
Vivian watched from the couch, smiling. "That's enough, Benedict. You'll scare him."
Benedict grinned. "My son? No way. A Young man doesn't scare that easy."
Every word was a blade dipped in ice, plunging into my chest one after another, until there was nothing left but raw, bleeding ruin.
My vision went black. The last thing I saw before I collapsed was Benedict rushing toward me, panic etched across his face.
This time, he was more attentive than ever, hovering by my side nearly twenty-four hours a day.
"Phoebe, Mom was just angry. I was afraid that if I spoke up for you, it would only make her worse. You have to understand—being caught between you two puts me in an impossible position."
Before, he'd never said anything like that.