“Maybe Claire is better at reading contracts than nb cooking breakfast.”
Soft laughter moved around the table.
Thomas Blackwell lowered his newspaper.
“A Blackwell wife should know how to accept criticism gracefully.”
I set down the coffee.
“And a Blackwell wife shouldn’t be treated like hired staff.”
Silence.
Eleanor slowly looked at me.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Adrian’s chair scraped violently against the floor.
He stood.
His face had gone red.
Not merely with anger.
With humiliation.
