Family on Their Knees Heart Turned to Ice novel Chapter 1217

"Make the arrangements. Escort Mrs. Winthrop up to the study," Martin instructed his sons.

Hearing the word "study," Sabrina immediately realized this wasn't going to be casual living room chatter. They were gearing up for a high-level business negotiation.

Having already delivered her pathetic little smear campaign against Lillian, she knew better than to push her luck by trying to tag along.

Wiping away her crocodile tears, she turned on her heel and hurried upstairs to her bedroom.

After she left, Beatrice Winthrop finally spoke up.

"Did you go to apologize to Lillian today?" She was tactful, referring to it simply as an apology to avoid embarrassment, even though she knew it involved kneeling and repentance. Martin sighed, unsure of how to respond. Brandon stepped forward with an inviting gesture.

"Old Mrs. Winthrop, let's go upstairs to the study to talk."

She didn't press further and followed them. Once upstairs and served with tea, the study door was closed, and they began their discussion.

Once safely inside her private quarters, Sabrina rushed straight to the vanity mirror. She gasped.

Her complexion was completely flawless—not a single bruise, cut, or patch of swelling remained. She was a little pale, lacking her usual rosy color, but otherwise utterly untouched.

She stared at her reflection, looking as if she had just seen a ghost.

The brutal, agonizing beating Lillian had subjected her to felt entirely like a twisted nightmare.

Staring at her pristine face, Sabrina felt a chilling disconnect from reality.

"What... what is happening? How is this possible?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

It was unnatural. Eerie. If it weren't for the fact that the collar of her dark designer blouse was stiff with dried, rusted blood—barely visible against the black fabric but texturally undeniable—she would have genuinely believed she had hallucinated the entire attack.

That, and the heavy, metallic weight of her own knocked-out molar currently resting at the bottom of her pocket.

Despite the physical proof that she had, in fact, been pulverized, Sabrina was paralyzed by a deep, primal terror. Like a madwoman, she lunged for her bed, crawling under the thick duvet and wrapping herself into a tight, shivering cocoon just to feel a fleeting sense of safety.

Brandon stepped in to explain. "A few years ago, when Grandma collapsed, there was no one left at the estate to properly care for my mother.

Sabrina convinced us to transfer her to St. Jude's Psychiatric Center, claiming she would receive top-tier, round-the-clock medical supervision. Naturally, we agreed.

But instead of getting her care, Sabrina used the facility as her own personal torture chamber. She went there every single week to physically abuse and humiliate my mother.

No one had any idea. But when we went to apologize today, Lillian managed to interrogate the truth out of her. That's when Lillian snapped."

The moment Brandon finished speaking, Beatrice slammed her hand against the armrest.

"Good!" Beatrice spat, her voice dripping with venom. "She got exactly what she deserved! To do something so utterly depraved... honestly, Lillian should have beaten her to death!

She is entirely devoid of humanity. Eleanor was already broken, already forced out of her own home, and that vicious shrew still wouldn't let her be?

Martin, if you have a shred of dignity left, you need to divorce that filthy slut immediately!"