The sharp intake of breath that followed my question hung in the air as Liam's face contorted with rage. I stood my ground, refusing to flinch under his glare.
"You have no husband," he spat. "Stop your lies, Juliana."
"Are you sure about that?" I kept my voice calm, though my heart hammered against my ribs.
Liam stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Whatever game you're playing, I suggest you stop. You don't belong here."
"I don't answer to you, Liam." I crossed my arms. "I never have."
His eyes hardened. "You need to leave my uncle alone. This little fantasy you've concocted ends now."
"Fantasy?" I let out a short laugh. "Is that what you think this is?"
Before he could respond, the clicking of heels against the marble floor announced another presence. I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Imogen's perfume—too sweet and cloying—reached me before she did.
