I stared at the two of them—one tall, one small. They looked so alike in that moment, united in contempt. Ten years ago, I had stood in front of this same woman, vowing to take care of her and the child she bore. Ten years ago, I had held a squalling infant in my arms, promising to raise her as my own.
I had given everything. Every opportunity. Every ambition. I missed my chance at the top research institute overseas. I gave up my career, my future, my life—because my brother ran.
He ran and I stayed.
Now, the baby who once cried in my arms stood before me, strong enough to hate me to my face. And the woman I had protected all these years could barely hide her revulsion.
Ten whole years had passed in the blink of an eye—and in a single moment, it was as if they had never happened.
My throat tightened. I blinked quickly, pushing back the sting rising behind my eyes. My voice came out rough, like it had been scraped raw.
"Sara," I said softly, "let's get a divorce."
She froze. For a second, I thought she hadn't heard me. Then her face contorted like someone had slapped her.
Before she could speak, Elise cut in sharply.