Broken At The Altar, Reborn Stronger

Carpent

ock and outrage. The faint color that had returned to Byron's cheeks drained aw

refully constructed facade finally crum

back. I simply turned, my back to them, and began to walk away, making my way towards the ladies' lounge. The last thin

f peace. But as I stepped inside, the quiet hum of the gala was abruptly pierc

ng an alarming shade of blue. His eyes were wide with terror, struggling to draw

!" I heard a

arios. Allergy? Choking hazard? As I took a step towards

ill with a manufactured hysteria. She had followed me into the lounge.

searing pain shot through my leg, but I barely registered it. My eye

mbling finger. "She did this! She tried to poison him! She's always been jealous; she

en my gaze landed on the boy again, really looked at him. His face wasn't just blue from lack of oxygen; it was mottled

Severe alle

eyes darted around, searching for the source of the reaction. Beside the boy, a half-eate

Severe. Every

"He's having an allergic reaction! He needs an EpiPen, now!" I

yanking me upwards. Byron' s face, dark with fury, was inches from m

to get to me? To manipulate me? You're even crazier than I remember!" His grip tightened, squeezing

tes us, Byron! She's always hated me! She wants us to suffer, she wan

th open suspicion, even disgust. Their whispers started, "Did she rea

a faint, desperate rasp. The hives were spreading rapidly, his eyelids sw

bbing in my knee, faded into insignificance.

dn't know I possessed. Then, before he could react, I swung my free hand, my palm con

th stunned disbelief. He had never been hit by me, by anyone. His

urgency. "Your son is dying! He's having a severe

n's renewed wails. I dropped to my knees beside the child, my fin

nto overdrive. His skin was cold and clammy

ged into my purse, a small, elegant clutch. I always carried it, a habit from years of worki

l object. An EpiPen. I pulled it out, its bright

pain in my knee and the throbbing in my cheek where Christin had slapp