Chapter Eleven
Valentina’s shoulders hunched as the words hung in the air like smoke. She looked down at her lap, cheeks colouring a deep, flustered red.
Samuel, without hesitation, slid his hand beneath the table and found hers. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“We’ll take responsibility for what we did,” he said quietly, but firmly.
Marcus leaned forward, elbows on the arms of his chair, eyes narrowing like a predator zeroing in on prey. His voice came out low, quiet, but laced with disdain. “Oh, yes you would. I suggest an abortion”
Valentina flinched.
Eleanor’s spine straightened. “You don’t get to say that.”
“I can say whatever I want,” Marcus replied, his voice deceptively calm, “in my own house.”
“You invited us,” she shot back. “You wanted this meeting. Or was that just a p
