My heart hammered against my ribcage as Isabella Beaumont's cold eyes locked with mine across the crowded room. The elegant woman who had once been my mother-in-law—who had treated me with thinly veiled disdain even during my marriage to her son—now looked at me as if she'd seen a ghost.
Which, in her mind, she had. I was supposed to be dead, after all.
Landon's hand settled at the small of my back, his touch both grounding and protective. "Who is that woman?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly desert-dry. "Vincent's mother."
His body tensed beside me, and I could feel the surge of his anger rolling through our bond. Before I could stop him, he was steering me directly toward her, his presence parting the crowd like a blade through water.
"Landon, wait—" I whispered urgently, but it was too late.
