Chapter 107

Her cellular vibrated. She’d put the wretched thing down again, as she’d come into Andrew’s room, but—ah, there it was. She picked it up. Charles was always telling her she’d forget her head if it wasn’t attached, and sometimes his reminders came with a sharp grip on her forearm. She rubbed the spots where his fingers left bruises sometimes; he truly did not know his own strength.

Ah, yes. The phone. She turned the screen over.

The letters swam in front of her and she held the cellular out, trying to focus. The reminder pinged. She struggled to remember how to turn it off before the sound drove her absolutely wild. Right, right. She’d set an alarm; Andrew would be getting off a plane in two hours. She’d told her driver—Charles was always so concerned for her health, and he disapproved of women driving—to fetch her son and his bride-to-be from the airport.