Suddenly, the tense quiet was shattered by the sharp sound of breaking glass. Anna had clumsily knocked over her wine glass. Red wine bled across the pristine white tablecloth, a grotesque, spreading stain.

“Careful,” Marcus hissed, his eyes flashing with a cold fire. “Is it impossible for you not to be so clumsy?”

Anna felt a hot flush of shame creep up her neck. She tried to apologize, but the words caught in her throat.

“Marcus, darling, don’t start,” Eleanor attempted to smooth things over. “It can happen to anyone.”