Darcy stayed in the living room long after Micah slipped out toward the kitchen. His eyes followed Micah's retreating back, watching the stiff way his shoulders hunched and the slight tremor in his hands. Something was wrong. Anyone could see it.
Vivian, clearly not one of those people, clicked her tongue and continued her running commentary, arms crossed and voice dripping with disdain.
"Look at him, pretending to be master of the house," she snorted, loud enough for half the room to hear. "He's just scared because the real heir is back. He should know his place…"
"Are you finished?"
Darcy's voice cut through the room like a blade. Not loud. Not harsh. But sharp enough that the air itself seemed freeze.
Vivian turned, startled. "Excuse me?"
