“What’s Bryson thinking, bringing you out when he knows you’re unwell?”

Makenna Mitchell shot Grace a look.

“I hear you’re not doing great.

Only a year to live, they say.

Bryson’s usually so resourceful.

Why hasn’t he found a cure for you?”

Grace shivered at Makenna’s words.

She’d been shielded by Bryson all her life and had never interacted much with these relatives.

Plus, her chronic illness had always been met with polite sympathy before, never this kind of cruelty.

Grace’s fingers clutched Hannah’s sleeve.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

working

her like that? You’ll upset her enough to land her in

“Should he really confront us for such a

were Grace’s

distasteful, and the naive

Hannah

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makes you so

wasn’t until then that

her from head to

“And you are?”

at a distance, wine glass in hand, Makenna’s son, Tyshawn Mitchell, scrutinized

“Ah, another gold-digger.

But this one’s smarter.

starting with the weak

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