Preston stumbled from his room wearing a wrinkled robe. His eyes were foggy from medication. Tessa followed, face pinched with annoyance rather than concern.
“What on earth is going on. It is the middle of the night. Have you lost your mind,” Tessa snapped.
Bernice gestured at the bed. “Look. Please. Just look.”
Preston stepped closer. His confusion deepened. He watched as Bernice pulled a pair of embroidery scissors from her apron. With a firm motion, she cut the satin open. Feathers spilled out and floated through the air.
Then something heavier hit the mattress. Pins. Dozens of them. Shining like a metallic garden of thorns. They had been arranged beneath the outer layer of fabric with meticulous precision. They lay flat but pointed upward. Invisible until pressure exposed them.
Preston stared. His breath caught in his throat. The blood drained from his face.
Tessa widened her eyes in fake shock. “This must be a manufacturing error. There must be an explanation. We should contact the store.”