January 29 at 1:00 PM
Photo courtesy of DepositPhotos.com
“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” Tyler Thorpe hurled his wineglass across the room. As the glass shattered, something inside Sara fractured too. She held her side, her breath quickening.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Tyler took a breath, and swallowed his anger. “Let me have a look.” He stepped closer.
“No.” Sara pulled away. “I’m fine.”
But Tyler knew better. She was so fragile, especially during this troubling time. Reluctantly he backed off. “I’ll get a broom.”
As Sara bent over, her knee buckled. Tyler watched helplessly as she slammed against the marble floor, the glass teeth knifing into her. The heiress stared at her arm in confusion; she could see the blood trickling past her elbow, but could not feel a thing.
“Stay with me, honey.” Tyler stood over her. “Keep breathing.” His brown eyes were warm, sincere.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sara lied.
“Me too.” He held her close until the darkness seized her.