Edward's Point Of View
Lydia let out a high, ragged sob that tore through the study's silence. She stumbled back against the heavy bookshelf, her hand clutching her red, stinging cheek. Her shoulders shook so violently that several old leather-bound volumes rattled behind her.
The metallic taste of fear mingled with humiliation on her tongue. She could still feel the burning imprint of my palm, a sensation that seemed to spread from her skin straight into her chest, radiating outward like poison through her veins.
"Dad!" The word ripped from her throat through her tears, her voice cracking into a desperate, furious screech. The sound was raw, almost animalistic in its pain. Never in her twenty-three years had I raised a hand to her… not once. "Is that seriously why you hit me? You actually laid your hands on your own daughter because of that low-life bitch?! Because of that absolute nobody bastard?! You're defending her over me?!"
