The sound of the slap echoed through the garden, sharp and brutal, silencing the birds in the trees. It was the sound of a family breaking apart.
Ashlyn stood frozen, her hand hovering over her stinging cheek. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of shock and betrayal. Her mother, Lady Anita, the woman who had always coddled her, who had plotted with her, who had whispered sweet promises of power in her ear, had just struck her across the face in front of everyone.
Ashlyn stared at Anita. She saw a stranger. Anita's face was twisted into a mask of pure, panicked self-preservation.
"You swore," Anita hissed, her voice trembling with a desperate fury. She grabbed Ashlyn's shoulders, shaking her. "You swore back then! You told me I shouldn't worry! You took the deed from me! You mortgaged the estate to get silvers for usury loans!"
Anita looked at her husband, then back at her daughter, her voice rising to a shriek.
