Violet’s voice cut through the jasmine-scented air like a blade. “I don’t want to see you. Get out of my sight. Now.”
Her face was pale marble, eyes glittering with frost. She turned sharply, heels already pivoting toward the glass doors.
Morgan Lewis lunged, fingers clamping around her wrist in a vise. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, barely audible over the distant hum of traffic beyond the courtyard wall. “Violet, I came all the way to the Provincial Committee Canteen during lunch hour to find you. You really want to make a scene right here?”
She stopped dead, spine rigid.
“Make a scene?” Violet hissed, yanking once—hard. His grip didn’t budge. “You brought this to our home, Morgan. You paraded your little fling through the places our child sleeps. Was it really just that one n
