Grace's POV
"Why did you call, dear?" Ramirez asked, her voice strained as she struggled to speak with any volume.
Amara's lips curved into a cruel smile as she fixed her gaze on me. Sweat beaded across my forehead, and every time Amara opened her mouth to speak, I tensed, my body coiling with dread.
"This concerns Grace, Mom," Amara announced, her voice dripping with false concern as she sought their mother's pity.
I lunged forward, seizing Amara's wrist with desperate force while frantically shaking my head. One word from Amara would shatter my world completely. A single sentence could destroy our mother.
Amara reveled in my torment, savoring every moment of my anguish. But she wouldn't relent until I handed over a fresh credit card.
"Grace? What's the matter? Has she done something? Did she... Did she strike you again?" Ramirez's voice carried a note of concern.
