Chapter 2 - The Echo in the Dining Room
The stinging echo of Claire’s hand meeting Mark’s face hung over the dining table like poison gas.
Spilled chicken noodle soup dripped slowly off the mahogany edge, landing with rhythmic clicks on the oriental rug.
In the background, the framed US flag reflected the warm overhead chandelier lights, framing a domestic nightmare in pristine American luxury.
Mark clutched his reddening cheek, his wire-rimmed glasses crooked across the bridge of his nose as his dark eyes bulged with disbelief.
Evelyn, still wearing her silver "Birthday Queen" sash over her navy blue lace dress, gasped audibly, clutching her pearl necklace.
"How dare you strike my son in my own home!" Evelyn shrieked, her short auburn hair shaking with aristocratic fury.
Claire didn't flinch; her high bun remained tight, and her charcoal grey silk blouse didn't show a single wrinkle as she adjusted one-year-old Emma against her shoulder.
The baby’s tiny face was flushed crimson, her soft yellow cardigan damp from tears, but her frantic sobs began to quiet against her mother’s heart.
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"Your home?" Claire whispered, her voice dropping into an icy register that cut through Evelyn’s dramatic screeching.
"This house was purchased with my trust fund, Evelyn... and you have exactly three minutes to step out of it."
