“Today, you threw me to the reporters,” I continued, my voice calm despite the turmoil inside me. “Tomorrow, my father’s name will be splashed across every headline. You and I both grew up in this world—we know exactly what that means. He helped you in every way he could. At the very least, he never turned his back on you.”
I thought I had chosen the safest, least personal topic to address his anger.
But Christopher’s face twisted into something raw and furious.
He stared at me with bloodshot eyes, his voice shaking with rage.
“Ariana Anderson… You call that helping?” His laughter was bitter, almost unhinged. “That was taking advantage of someone’s misery! That was ruining not just my life—but Liz’s! Your father destroyed us and you… you had the audacity to stand by and watch!”
His voice rose, filled with years of suppressed hatred.
“For eight years—eight fucking years—do you know how Liz has suffered?! We loved each other. We belonged together! But you and your despicable father tore us apart!”
His voice cracked with venom.
“So I will make sure you suffer.”
His final words were a promise, laced with a deep, soul-crushing hatred.