protective custody pending a formal welfare hearing.””
The arrogance melted from Sarah’s face like hot wax. “”No… wait! David! Call David! This is a mistake! Nathan wouldn’t—””
“”Nathan gave you a home, an allowance, and peace,”” Eleanor interrupted ruthlessly. “”And you nearly killed his daughter. Pack your bags, Mrs. Hayes. On the curb.””
By seven o’clock, the locks were changed, the utilities were transferred, and Sarah stood on the rain-slicked asphalt in her designer boots, surrounded by cardboard boxes, weeping hysterically while her brother-in-law’s old truck rumbled into the driveway.
