esh fury. Magnus Lloyd towered over his son, his face flushed crims
e, rattled the crystal decanters. He pounded the floor with his silver-tip
is fury softened, just slightly. "Isabelle. You're here. The
back, stepping protectively in front of her. "My marriage to
" she whispered, a hand fluttering to her throat.
phne's family is highly respected in the medical co
, a pragmatist to his core. But he shook his head. "Be that as it may, Is
s marriage," he said, his voice swelling with hollow br
oss the old man's neck. He stared at his only son, his
m fell
could have ended this farce with three words, but where was the fun in that? Let them perform. L
ut a heavy, defeated sigh. He turned to Isabel
terfeit sincerity. "As long as you wish to remain in thi
was handing her the knife, making her
s looked smug, so certain that the woman he believed stil
rmance. Whatever residual respect she might have held for him
lative old man, the weak-wille
ot loud, but it cut through the
t on the
And when she didn't, that strange, maddening heat from the hallway coiled in his chest again. A humiliating realization wash
. Only a cold certainty: she had just made the right choice. And that c
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