The sound of Daniel Mercer’s hand against Henry Vale’s face cracked through the living room hard enough to silence the glasses.
Henry’s head turned with the blow. His shoulder caught the edge of the cream sofa, and for one second he stayed folded there, one hand braced against the upholstery as the chandelier trembled above them.
Daniel stood over him in his cream suit, breathing through his mouth.
“You stole what belonged to my family!”
Nobody moved.
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