Leo slid off the chair, tiny hands stuffing the crown back into its box before picking it up and scurrying after Daddy on his little legs.
A father who favored daughters over sons.
The princess in his arms was wrapped in a pink swaddle, adorned with a lace frill hat, held more preciously than the most expensive treasure while his son ran around on splayfooted legs, carrying the heavy box.
In the auction hall, gentlemen and ladies of high society stared at the retreating figure of Wayne Bailey, unable to snap back to reality for a long time.
In the shadows, Mr. Harrington kicked over a chair, his eyes ablaze with arrogant fury!
In Antabury, no one had yet dared to make Charles Harrington suffer!
Wayne Bailey's car was parked in the shade of a tree near the auction house, waiting a long time before seeing The Harringtons' private car exit the garage.
The dazzling red sports car, driven by Charles himself, roared arrogantly under the winter sunshine.
