I threw myself at his feet, sobbing. "I'll apologize! You want me to apologize to Roberta? I'll do it! Just don't touch my mother!"
"Too late."
His voice was ice.
"When Roberta wakes up and decides to forgive you, that's when I'll decide whether your mother lives or dies."
I looked at Roberta, still cradled in his arms, and caught her snapping her eyes shut the instant my gaze landed on her. Faking unconsciousness.
A wail of despair tore out of me.
"I'm begging you, Clay. Do whatever you want to me. Anything. Just leave my mother alone."
"Roberta, I'll give you whatever you want! Just let us go!"
The only answer was Clay's back as he walked away, his voice carrying behind him like a verdict.
"Watch her. Make her kneel. If she tries to stand, break her legs."
One hour. Two hours.
I knelt there, crying, praying that Roberta would show a shred of mercy and wake up to stop Clay.
What I got instead was a phone call. Assistant Miller's voice, flat and clinical:
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Vance. Your mother passed away. Since you weren't present to sign for the body, we've already sent it to the crematorium."
"No!"
The scream ripped from my throat, and I doubled over, retching up mouthfuls of blood.
The bodyguard's phone buzzed. He read the message, then hauled me off the floor.
"Mr. Vance is hosting a birthday party for Miss Harding tonight. You're to clean yourself up and go to the venue. You'll kneel and apologize in front of everyone. That's your gift to the birthday girl."
I moved like a corpse. I followed them to the car, rode home in silence, walked into the bedroom, and began getting ready.
They waited outside the door.
Minutes passed. Then more minutes.
I never came out.
They kicked the bedroom door open and found the room empty.
The only thing left was a beautifully wrapped gift box sitting on the bed.
...
Clay wore a smile as he watched Roberta blow out her candles and slice into the cake with that sweet, guileless grin of hers.
But irritation gnawed at him.
Lydia still hadn't shown up.
He'd pushed her hard enough. All he'd wanted was for her to apologize to Roberta, to put an end to the wrongs she'd committed. Was that really so much to ask?
His agitation was climbing when a bodyguard hurried into the room.
Clay's eyes lit up, scanning the doorway behind the man. When he didn't see Lydia, the light died.
"Where is she?"