The sting was immediate, a radiating heat that blossomed across Grace’s skin, leaving her ears ringing. The shock was from the audacity of the woman standing before her. Sasha stood panting, her face twisted in a mask of entitlement, clearly expecting Grace to cower.
Grace did not cower. Something in her, a dormant, protective fire ignited by the long, taxing days in this house, surged forward. Before Sasha could draw another breath to insult her, Grace moved. She grabbed Sasha by the collar of her expensive coat and, with a precision born of raw anger , slapped her back. Once, then twice, the sound echoing against the high ceilings of the room.
Sasha staggered, her hand flying to her own cheek, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and wounded pride. "How dare you?" she shrieked, he
