a flicker of irritation crossed her face. She raised her silver fork and pointed its prongs directly at Alina’s unconscious form.
“Don’t look so panicked, David,” she muttered, her tone soaked in casual contempt. “I DO WHAT I WANT IN MY SON’S HOUSE. SHE’S JUST A DRAMA QUEEN trying to get out of doing the dishes.”
Snap.
Not a sound — a structural collapse continue reading …