Rita's Point Of View
The air in the room hung thick enough to choke on, reeking of spilled expensive wine and the rotting stench of the Moore family's supposed "legacy." I stood there, chest heaving, staring at Matilda. She looked so composed, so regal in her chair, even with glass shattered at her feet… a queen surveying her kingdom from a throne of broken crystal. The sight made me want to scream, but the scream lodged behind a wall of pure, unadulterated fury. My hands trembled at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms.
