“You clumsy little brat!” she screeched.

I froze for half a second in shock. Then she grabbed Lily’s hair—hard. Lily screamed.

“STOP!” I lunged forward, but I was too late. Constance slammed Lily’s head against the mahogany table corner. My baby collapsed, shaking, blood trickling down her forehead.

“Grant!” I cried, begging my husband for support.

But Grant just… laughed.

“She needs to learn to be careful,” he said, shrugging at his mother.

I could barely breathe. No one moved. No one helped. The entire Whitmore family kept eating like nothing had happened.

Then Nathan stood up.