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Chapter 145: Desperation Of The Dowager
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... ded with steel, "that after all these years, you still cling to your husband’s shadow."
The Dowager laughed, brittle, too sharp to hide the crack in her composure. Her eyes misted even as her mouth twisted. "And if you don’t listen—" her voice dropped, low and dire, each syllable weighted like a curse, "—you may learn too late how swiftly devotion curdles into mourning."
The words struck like ice water poured straight into her veins. Lorraine’s fingers curled hard into her palms. ...
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