Kira watched Sandra strut up the front deck, her heels clicking with an arrogance that set Kira's teeth on edge. She was clutching the hand of the young boy—a child with amber eyes that looked far too much like a mirror of Derek's own.
Fury coiled in Kira's chest. She didn't care what history lay between them, but the sheer disrespect of this woman bringing a child to this house where they were spending their honeymoon was a line she wouldn't allow her to cross. It was clear Sandra didn't know when to quit.
"Excuse me," Kira called out. "Can I help you with something? Or are you lost?"
Sandra didn't even glance up. She simply ignored Kira, crouching down to the boy's level and smiling sweetly. "Sweetheart, go inside and wait for Mummy, okay? Go on."
"No," Kira said, her tone hardening. She offered the boy a small, forced smile of her own. "Actually, sweetheart, why don't you head back to the car and wait there? Your mother won't be staying long."
