“What’s Bryson thinking, bringing you out when he knows you’re unwell?”
Makenna Mitchell shot Grace a look.
“I hear you’re not doing great.
Only a year to live, they say. Bryson’s usually so resourceful. Why hasn’t he found a cure for you?”
Grace shivered at Makenna’s words.
She’d been shielded by Bryson all her life and had never interacted much with these relatives.
Plus, her chronic illness had always been met with polite sympathy before, never this kind of cruelty.
Grace’s fingers clutched Hannah’s sleeve. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Bryson… he’s working on it.”
Finally breaking his silence, a young man interjected, “Mom, why grill her like that? You’ll upset her enough to land her in the hospital, then her brother will have words with you.”
Makenna crossed her arms, huffing, “Should he really confront us for such a fragile girl?”
Hannah gathered that these were Grace’s relatives from their conversation.
Their comments were distasteful, and the naive Grace was close to tears.
Stepping up, Hannah protected Grace.
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“What makes you so untouchable?”
It wasn’t until then that Makenna noticed Hannah. She scrutinized her from head to toe.
“And you are?”
Lingering at a distance, wine glass in hand, Makenna’s son, Tyshawn Mitchell, scrutinized Hannah.
“Ah, another gold-digger. But this one’s smarter. She’s starting with the weak Link.”
Hannah met his gaze, ice-cold.
“I’m simply a friend of Mr. Mitchell.”
“A friend?” Tyshawn scoffed.
“Seems everyone these days can claim ties to our family.”
“You! Watch your mouth when you talk about Hannah!” Though nervous, Grace mustered the courage to speak up for her friend.