At the mention of her mother, fury burned through Jane, flushing her face. Her knuckles turned white, trembling with rage and for one second, murder flashed in her eyes.

She had left the Harrisons’ household; she didn’t have to tread on eggshells around them anymore. No… she could retaliate freely.

“Marcy, you regularly steal Stacy’s jewelry and when she can’t find them, you allow me to be maligned and beaten. For my own good, you say? Who’s the shameless one ...