He pulled her into his arms. Her face was white, her forehead slick with cold sweat, as though she were fighting through unbearable pain.
She spoke, her voice weak and full of wounded innocence.
"Husband… don't blame my sister. She's just too heartbroken… I'm fine…"
Every word sounded like a defense of me. Every word pushed the blame squarely onto my shoulders.
"I didn't—"
I barely got the words out before I was cut off.
Her choked sobbing lit the fuse of his anger.
He didn't hesitate. His voice went cold and flat. "Adrian, even if your husband is dead, that's no reason to take it out on someone else. Don't forget, Chloe isn't like you. She has a husband who protects her."
He lifted Adrian Winslow into his arms and turned away.
From start to finish, he never looked at me again.
I stood where I was and watched their figures grow smaller, moving between the headstones until the gravel path swallowed them.
My heart twisted, hard, as if someone had taken it in their fist and wrung it.
I held on. I did not let the tears fall.
In the end, I went home alone.
Three days. That was all the time I had left before I disappeared from this Family for good.
This time, I didn't lock myself inside the room.