One stone could pay for a year of Jonathan's imported medicine.
"Mr. James, I'm so sorry," Miranda hissed, bowing low. "This clumsy idiot destroyed your wine."
Polished black shoes stopped inches from my nose.
Miranda grabbed my arm, twisting viciously. "Forgive the interruption. This fool can't even hold a tray. I'll have fresh bottles brought immediately."
The pain was sharp, but it paled against the time creditors snapped my ribs. Still, nausea churned in my stomach.
"Enough." Jonathan sounded bored.
He gestured at the mess of glass and wine. "Since you broke it, clean it up. Pick every shard from the carpet. With your hands." His eyes were ice. "If my sister steps on a single piece, I'll make you swallow it."
The carpet was thick and plush. Jagged glass had buried itself deep in the fibers, invisible.
I had no choice. I crawled forward, pressing my palms into the wool, finding razor-sharp edges by feel.
Valerie studied my hunched form, then hooked her arm through Jonathan's. "Brother, I'm tired."
"You delicate thing." He lifted her. "I'll carry you out. Too dangerous to walk here."