"Poor thing. I'll take you to the best dermatologist in the city. Not a single scar, I promise."
She pinched his cheek playfully. "Our little Frederick still has to be the most handsome groomsman at Daddy's wedding, doesn't he?"
I stared at her, disbelief curdling into something darker. My voice came out raw.
"Rosemary. Do you have any idea what you're saying?"
She lifted her gaze to meet mine. Her lips curved in something that might have been a smile, but her eyes were arctic.
"I heard everything. Men from wealthy families—who doesn't have a woman or two on the side? Your mother died because she couldn't handle it. You're really going to blame Frederick for that?"
She stepped closer, her voice turning sharp. "You got to grow up with a father by your side. Why shouldn't he have the same?"
"No matter what it takes, I'm bringing him into the Sullivan family. Everyone will know he's the legitimate young master of this house—and no one will ever call him a bastard again."
Her chin lifted. "You want to wreck the wedding, Roland? Go ahead. Try me."
I knew she meant it.
The last time she'd made a threat like that, the target's company had been swallowed whole by the Hensons within a week. The man himself had his legs broken, his tongue cut out, and vanished from Seaside City entirely.
And that had only been because he'd made a crude joke about me.
I should have seen this coming.
Rosemary had always been fickle. To her, my father's affair was trivial—barely worth mentioning. She couldn't begin to comprehend what my mother and I had suffered.
But knowing that didn't make it hurt any less—being stabbed in the front by the woman who'd once shared my bed.
My hand moved before I could think.
The slap cracked across her face.
"Get out."
Rosemary let out a soft, humorless laugh and worked her jaw, testing the sting.
Before she could speak, Frederick lunged at me.
"I've had enough of you! Don't you dare touch her again!"
He shoved me—hard.
I went sprawling backward into the two massive potted cacti behind me.
Needles pierced my back, my palms, everywhere. Blood welled up in bright droplets. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth, the pain white-hot and relentless.
My father's lip curled with irritation.
"A perfectly good breakfast, ruined by your tantrum."
He stood, adjusting his cuffs. "Rosemary, perfect timing. Have you eaten? Let's dine out."