The crystal chandelier crashed onto Scarlett's back with a sickening c***k, the impact spattering blood across the marble floor.
A violent wrench seized Maxwell's chest as he watched her crumple. "Scarlett." The word tore from him before he could stop it. "Are you... are you okay?"
Had she not seen the panic flash across his face, Scarlett might have thought she'd imagined it. His voice, for the first time in what felt like forever, held no disgust—only something dangerously close to concern.
Was he actually worried about her?
Her lips parted to reply, but Grace's voice sliced through the moment. She stepped forward, her expression a masterpiece of manufactured concern.
"Oh no. Ms. Anderson, I came to invite you to our wedding in good faith. Was this little stunt really necessary?"
M
