I looked at my son, and the ghost of Marcus vanished entirely. This wasn’t a boy preparing to run. This was a man anchoring his feet to the ground, preparing for war.
Chloe looked at her mother’s unyielding, furious face. Then she looked at Ethan, who was staring at her with a fierce, unwavering devotion that defied logic and wealth. Chloe swallowed hard. With violently trembling hands, she reached up and unhooked her IV bag from the metal pole.
“I’m staying,” Chloe whispered.
Eleanor’s face flushed a deep, terrifying shade of crimson. The mask of aristocratic calm completely shattered. “You foolish, stupid little girl,” she hissed, her voice vibrating with rage. “You are dead to me. Don’t you ever dare call my house.”
She turned on her designer heel, the sound sharp as a gunshot, and marched away down the hall. Mr. Sterling gave us a pitying, tight-lipped look before trailing behind her like an obedient, well-paid shadow.
