esh fury. Magnus Lloyd towered over his son, his face flushed crims

e, rattled the crystal decanters. He pounded the floor with his silver-tip

is fury softened, just slightly. "Isabelle. You're here. The

back, stepping protectively in front of her. "My marriage to

" she whispered, a hand fluttering to her throat.

phne's family is highly respected in the medical co

, a pragmatist to his core. But he shook his head. "Be that as it may, Is

s marriage," he said, his voice swelling with hollow br

oss the old man's neck. He stared at his only son, his

m fell

could have ended this farce with three words, but where was the fun in that? Let them perform. L

ut a heavy, defeated sigh. He turned to Isabel

terfeit sincerity. "As long as you wish to remain in thi

was handing her the knife, making her

s looked smug, so certain that the woman he believed stil

rmance. Whatever residual respect she might have held for him

lative old man, the weak-wille

ot loud, but it cut through the

t on the

And when she didn't, that strange, maddening heat from the hallway coiled in his chest again. A humiliating realization wash

. Only a cold certainty: she had just made the right choice. And that c