"Annabelle Linton is my wife. The woman I swore to spend my life pampering. First you insulted her, and then you laid a hand on her. Did you think I was dead?"
Mrs. Yates looked at him, exasperated. "Leona, can't you see she's just putting on an act? Don't let a vixen like her pull the wool over your eyes. What good is a pretty face? Be careful, or she'll suck you dry before you know it!"
"Your choice of words is so absurd, it makes me question your intelligence!"
Leona Grant stared at her, his expression so cold it could freeze the world. "So, you're saying that Annabelle Linton knew it was a family heirloom you had to have, deliberately drove up the price, then pretended to yield to you, all to make you look bad?"
"Exactly!" Mrs. Yates's single-word reply was full of righteous conviction.
'It wasn't easy, but he finally understands!'
"That's just how cunning she is! Everyone thinks she's so kind, but no one would guess she's such a manipulative bitch!"
