Julian POV
"Get your hands off her before I snap your wrist."
My mother’s voice cuts through the foyer like a blunt blade. I slam the heavy oak front door shut behind me. The noise rattles the crystal chandelier overhead.
Inside, the air is thick with the stench of sweat and cheap perfume. My mother has her fingers dug deep into Eliora’s leather jacket. Eliora is leaning back. Her boot is planted firmly against my mother’s shin, ready to push off and send her flying onto the marble floor.
Penelope stands three paces away from the brawl. She does not move. She does not breathe hard. Her arms are crossed over her chest, loose and completely detached. She looks at my family the way a scientist looks at a disease under a glass slide.
"Enough."
I do not shout. I drop my voice into the low
