The moment she started laughing, Brent finally stopped.
He wrapped an arm around Gloria's waist, his voice going so soft it was nauseating.
"Happy now, Gloria?"
"When have I ever not been happy with what you do for me..."
Her coy little whine drew a smug laugh out of Brent,
but before the sound even faded,
Gloria's expression crumpled into wounded innocence.
"But..."
Brent's smile vanished instantly.
"But what?"
"Don't be scared, Gloria. I'm right here. Tell me what's wrong."
Gloria clasped the hand he had on her waist, stroking the back of it over and over, her voice sweet and helpless.
"My clothes got soaked because of her just now... I'm so cold..."
"That's nothing. I'll take you to the mall right now and buy you something new."
"No."
Gloria pointed at me, tugging Brent's arm with a little shake.
"I want the one she's wearing. Right now."
"Absolutely not!"
I cut straight through her wheedling.
This gown was the Pruitt family's heirloom, passed down with the leadership of the branch.
The family regarded it the same way they regarded the family's honor itself.
And this one, the one on my body, my late mother had altered stitch by stitch to fit me.