Morning light streamed through the windows as Orla paced across her mother-in-law's opulent living room. Her cheek still burned with humiliation from Lyra's slap. The memory made her fingers curl into tight fists.
"She slapped me," Orla spat for the third time. "That illegitimate nobody had the audacity to slap me!"
Penelope Quinn watched her with narrowed eyes. "And you did nothing but take it. I expected more from the woman marrying my son."
Orla stopped pacing. "What was I supposed to do? Percival was there, backing her up!"
"You were supposed to find a way to put her in her place without causing a scene," Penelope replied coldly. "Instead, you provoked her and got slapped for it. Now she's calling herself your 'auntie' and demanding respect."
The older woman stood, smoothing her tailored skirt. "I didn't orchestrate this ranch weekend for you to fail so spectacularly before it even begins."
