A crystal decanter tipped over, spilling dark red wine across the white linen runner.

“Derek!” Eleanor shrieked.

Derek reached me before I could move back.

He grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging deep into my skin, right where the old bruises were still fading.

The pain shot up my shoulder, but I did not scream.

“You think you won?” he hissed, his face inches from mine.

I could smell the scotch on his breath, mixed with the scent of his expensive cologne.

“I will burn this house down with you in it before I let you take a single dime,” he said.

His grip tightened, his fingernails biting through the fabric of my silk blouse.

“You are going to pay for this,” he whispered.

“I will make sure you never have a quiet night’s sleep for the rest of your life.”

“Let go of her,” Arthur said, his voice shaking with anger.

He grabbed Derek by the shoulder, trying to pull him back.

Derek swung his arm around, clipping his father’s chest and forcing him to step back again.

“Stay out of this, Dad,” Derek yelled.