Alana's lips curved into a sweet, practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Avery," she began, her voice thick with sugary concern, "I know this is really hard on you, but all I want is for you to be prepared. Now that I'm back… I know I'll make Silas understand, and he will be mine again. But Avery, please"—she tilted her head, feigning empathy—"don't come between us."
Every word was laced with condescension, like honey hiding the sting of a bee.
Without giving Avery even a second to process, Alana continued, her tone becoming more dramatic, almost as if she were rehearsing lines she had practiced countless times in front of a mirror. "Avery, I know this all was cruel to you," she sighed, placing a hand over her heart, "but please don't take my love from me. Please… leave Silas."
She clasped her hands together on the table, looking almost saintly in her feigned desperation.
