She would weep tears of righteous innocence.
She would claim Elena was lying, that it was a misunderstanding, that she was merely stressed about wedding preparations.
She would scrub her phone, call her allies, and cover her tracks before sunset.
I drew a slow, quiet breath, reached down, and lifted Mia into my arms.
Su pequeño marco estaba temblando, pero envolvió sus brazos alrededor de mi cuello sin un sonido.
Me alejé de la puerta, paso a paso, hasta que llegamos al corredor alfombrado del ala oeste.
I walked into my private study and pushed the heavy mahogany door shut behind us, turning the brass lock.
I placed Mia gently on the edge of my massive leather-bound desk.
I pulled up a chair, bringing myself down to her level.
“How long has Vivien been frightening your mommy, Mia?”
Mia held up three small fingers.
“Three days?”
I asked softly.
She shook her head.
“Three weeks?”
Another shake of her small head.
