Mother, don't worry," Mitchell said, her voice dropping into a smooth, calculating purr as she patted Beatrice's trembling hand. "Daddy loves us the most. A tragedy like that will never happen to us."
Just as the words left her mouth, the heavy wooden door was slammed open. Mr. Adams strode into the hospital ward, his face a mask of absolute fury and exhaustion. He didn't offer a greeting. He didn't check on his wife's broken arm, nor did he ask why she had been hospitalized. He simply stood at the foot of the bed, breathing heavily.
"Beatrice," he growled, his voice dangerously low. "What on earth have you done?"
