Gaston burst into laughter, incredulous. "Her? Careful?" He nearly doubled over. "Lucia, you're brilliant, but that might be your first bad read."
He scoffed. "The woman's a deaf, barren lump. A glorified ornament. Even her father doesn't speak of her as if she exists. Yes, she's… shapely… turned glamorous over the years. I'll give her that… " He cleared his throat as his sister glared at him. "But she's barely a person."
Lucia said nothing.
Because she had seen it.
Not just in Lorraine's eyes, but in the moment when Leroy was shouted down, humiliated like a stray dog in front of her.
And that woman… she didn't shrink. She didn't whimper or cower or run. That was not how an imbecile nobody would act. She looked at Leroy with something dangerous. Deliberate.
Lucia had pitied her at first. The way she sat so quietly, like broken porcelain dressed in silk. Emotionless. Forgettable.
But when Leroy shouted, when he tried to drive her away, Lorraine didn't cry. She didn't plead.
