Jacob's voice was gentle, but his eyes flashed with barely contained rage. He tried to speak, then trailed off as his brow furrowed. The image of his granddaughter being attacked by her own father and those outsiders replayed in his mind until his blood boiled. His hand clenched into a fist, then slowly relaxed as if he were forcing restraint back into himself.
"Can you believe it?" Jacob asked in a voice low enough that only Amelia heard. "Your own father just stood there while those people attacked you. If I had not been there…" He shook his head, disgust sharp in his expression.
Amelia watched her grandfather's face, warmth spreading through her chest. Although Jacob had defended her several times since her return, each moment he stood up for her still stirred something deep inside her.
"I stopped expecting anything from them long ago," she said with a faint smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "But Grandfather, I did not know you gave the Claires money."
