At the mention of Sandra’s name, Hannah’s hand paused, and a flash of disgust crossed her face.
There it was. All that preamble—the feigned concern, the talk about Cora, the questions about breakfast—it was all leading up to this.
“Sandra said she messaged you but you didn’t reply, so she asked me to check,” Lionel continued. “I was thinking I could drive you after we finish eating. That way you won’t have to drive yourself and you can rest in the car.”
Hannah put down her spoon, staring at the lukewarm soup in her bowl. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to dump the entire thing over his head.
That bitch Sandra. Did she really think Hannah was a three-year-old who would run tattling when she didn’t get a response?
And Lionel, offering to drive her so she could “rest.” He just wanted to go and be Sandra’s backup, her solid support system so she wouldn’t have to be afraid. It would be another empty, half-hearted “I’m sorry,” and when Hannah didn't accept it, Lionel would immediately jump in, telling her to stop making a scene and just forgive Sandra, who had already humbled herself so much.
Hannah could already see the entire encounter playing out in her mind.
“Hah…”
Her appetite was completely gone. She looked at Lionel, a smile spreading across her face.
Seeing her smile, Lionel thought he had succeeded. He was about to speak when she cut him off.
“Was I the one who did something wrong?”
Lionel hesitated. “It was her.”

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