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“I watch Peppa Pig, am I a baby?” Abby said.

“No.” Katy giggled.

“See? Your best friend doesn’t know everything, does he? Eat up and I’ll put the TV on.”

The hated soup was finished in record time. Abby settled Katy in front of the TV with a drink, closed the living room door and went back to the kitchen. For a second she felt like she’d interrupted something. Victoria was glaring at the far wall, her mouth pinched, her back straight. Lawrence’s cheeks were flushed as he stared at Victoria with undisguised frustration.

“Tea, then.” Abby faked a lightness she didn’t feel.

“Tea can wait, Abigail.” Victoria frowned. “Abby. Please, join us.”

Abby changed direction away from the kitchen counter to sit facing her sister. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Lawrence’s eyes softened. He looked at Victoria, who gave him an irritated glance before turning back to Abby.

“Mother was upset to discover you’d made an appearance in the tablo

ids.”

Abby’s hands began to tremble and she hoped Victoria didn’t notice. What else could they do to show their disapproval? They’d already disowned her. She fought to hold her chin high. Victoria’s emotionless eyes held hers.

“Mother is anxious to ensure your daughter is receiving the care befitting a Montgomery-Clark.”

Abby flicked the tip of her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “Katy isn’t a Montgomery-Clark, she’s a McKenzie.”

Victoria stared at her for a minute. Her expression gave nothing away. “There are concerns over the influences in your daughter’s life. It’s clear your association with Mr Boyle, and his friends, exposes your daughter to dangerous and undesirable examples of behaviour.”

Abby couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The world had stopped. “What do you mean? Get to the point, Victoria.”

Victoria’s lip curled slightly. “Our mother wishes to start proceedings to remove your daughter from those undesirable influences. She feels a more appropriate environment can be provided at Montgomery Hall.”

Abby’s hands hit the edge of the table. Her nails bit into the wood as she held on tight. It wasn’t anchor enough. She needed something stronger to hold her in place.

“You want to take my daughter?” The words were a whisper. The thought too horrific to be spoken any louder.

Victoria gave a curt nod. “If that’s what’s needed.” Her eyes were unwaveringly cold. “You didn’t think Mother would allow another generation of Montgomery-Clarks to stray, did you?”

No, one generation was enough. Abby was enough. Abby fought the urge to vomit as her lunch curdled in her stomach.

“Is that why you’re here?” She turned on Lawrence. “To serve notice?”

He shook his head. Grim. The man was grim. “As I explained to your family, no court would willingly remove a child from her mother unless the situation was extreme.” He gave Victoria a sharp look. “In my opinion, this situation is nowhere near extreme. I was able to persuade your mother to wait before proceeding with legal action. Her concession came with one condition—a family member must assess the situation in lieu of a visit from your mother. That is why Victoria is here. I’m here as your mother’s legal representative.” His jaw clenched. “I’m also here to give an unbiased opinion on the matter. It was a condition I insisted upon.”

Lawrence Maynard, a partner in her mother’s firm, was here to monitor Victoria? To make sure Abby wasn’t railroaded? She swallowed hard. He was an ally. She had an ally. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Lawrence’s opinion will not factor into the report I give to mother,” Victoria snapped.

“I can give my own report, Vicki,” Lawrence snapped back.

Vicki? No one called Victoria Vicki. Abby felt like she’d walked onstage in the middle of a play and she didn’t know her lines. No, that wasn’t true. She knew one line. The only one that mattered.

“You won’t take my daughter.”

“It’s all about what’s best for the child.”

Abby slapped the table. “I’m what’s best for Katy. Me. Her mother.”

“I agree,” Lawrence said.

Victoria scowled at Lawrence. She hooked her handbag over her arm as she stood. For a second, Abby thought she saw her sister’s hand tremble. “You have one week to prove this is an environment fit for a Montgomery-Clark.”

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