And then, another memory came crashing down on her. Years ago, Aron Ray had a strange accident that left his legs crippled, but nothing else—his face, arms, and torso were untouched.
It had never made sense to her, but now, a dark realization crept in. It wasn't just an accident. Someone had intentionally crippled him, ensuring no damage beyond his legs. It was too precise, too calculated. It was as if someone didn't want to harm him entirely—just make him vulnerable.
Esme felt a wave of nausea rise, her stomach twisting with disgust. She put a hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. How could the second aunt have been so vile? And worse—how dare she try to lay a hand on her husbands?
Her rage bubbled over. Esme's eyes turned red with fury, and in one swift motion, she stood up, shoving the chair back with such force that it slammed into the window. She stood still for a moment, her breathing heavy, her mind consumed by cold, calculated anger.
