Chapter 43 Last Good Thing
The wails of the sickly toddler pierced through the grand Langford estate, echoing in the lavish but cold nursery. Sarah sat motionless on the edge of a velvet chaise, staring blankly ahead, her manicured nails drumming against the armrest. The child’s cries grated against her nerves, each sob a reminder of everything she had lost, everything she had been denied.
Charles had barely looked at her since the birth. Beatrice had sneered at her in that condescending way of hers, making it clear that Sarah had failed—again.
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