"My grandfather is sick," Emmeline said, sniffling.
She cast a subtle look at the crowd. Good. Everyone had their eyes on them, blatantly or not. If it was a show they craved, she was more than happy to give them one. This was just the opening act.
"Are you that heartless, Matteo Montgomery? After you've already broken my heart so openly?"
***
Horace Hawthorne was resting on the hospital bed, but his eyes immediately sprung into wakefulness when he heard the sound of the door opening.
"Grandpa, how are you feeling?" Amelia asked quietly, taking care not to startle him with her voice. She slowly made her way to his bedside, her eyes roving over his waxy complexion. Was it her imagination, or did he look a lot thinner than she remembered him to be?
