Evelyn stepped closer.
“Claire,” she said, her voice thick with contempt, “you’ve been sulking all afternoon. Either apologize or stop making this uglier than it needs to be.”
The charcoal popped beneath my palm.
Pain shot through my arm so hard that my knees buckled.
Daniel held me upright.
He wanted them to see it.
That was the part I understood with terrifying clarity. This was not a loss of temper. It was not an accident. He was performing.
He wanted every neighbor and business associate in that luxury backyard to watch his exhausted wife break.
“Say it,” he whispered.
My skin felt as if it were shrinking around the bones of my hand.
Then his mouth moved close to my ear.
“Your life is mine to crush.”
Something inside me went still.
Not numb.
Still.
Beyond Daniel’s shoulder, I saw the outdoor security camera mounted above the back door. A tiny green light glowed beneath its lens.
Daniel had installed it himself after a package disappeared from the patio. He had bragged that it recorded sound clearly enough to catch a whisper.
He had forgotten about it.
Or perhaps he believed I had.
I stopped pulling against him.