"Mother, I won't be attending your birthday celebration for me tomorrow evening," Lysander Thorne announced, his voice firm as he stood in the opulent drawing room of Dowager Duchess Annelise Thorne's mansion.
The elderly woman's head snapped up, her fingers tightening around her embroidery hoop. "What nonsense are you speaking now, Lysander? The arrangements have been made for weeks."
I squared my shoulders, determined to stand my ground. "I'm attending dinner at Alaric and Isabella's home instead."
Mother's lips thinned to nearly disappearing. "You would choose that... that scarred woman over your own mother?"
"That 'scarred woman' is my daughter-in-law and the Duchess of Thorne," I replied, surprising myself with how protective I felt toward Isabella despite hardly knowing her. "And yes, I'm choosing to attempt reconciliation with my son."
"After all these years?" She waved a dismissive hand. "He's made his feelings about you quite clear."
