Aria scrubbed at the wine stain on her dress. The splotch, thankfully, wasn’t large. She rinsed her hands, water sliding over her skin, and reached for a towel. Just as her fingers brushed the rough cotton, the heavy washroom door swung inward.
A figure filled the doorway, backlit by the dim hall. Aria’s breath caught. Her eyes widened, disbelief crashing into a sick, familiar dread.
“Mom,” the whisper tore from her throat, fragile, pleading.
A sharp crack split the air. Pain exploded across her cheek, snapping her head sideways. Her ear rang; the metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth where her teeth cut her lip.
“You ungrateful b***h. How dare you marry him.” Melissa’s voice grated, edged with cold fury. The warmth she showed the world was gone; her eyes burned with naked hatred.
