And my father? He didn't apologize. He told my mother to be more understanding.
Christina Sullivan is only two years younger than me.
My mother spent twenty-five years building that man's home, raising his family, standing by his side—only to discover he'd been betraying her the entire time.
Our housekeeper, Hilary Lambert, got worried and called me while I was picking up the anniversary cake.
I broke every speed limit getting back.
I was still pulling into the driveway when my mother stepped off the roof.
Her body landed on my car. Blood sprayed across the windshield in a pattern I will never unsee.
While I was drowning in grief, barely holding myself together to arrange her funeral—my father was busy consoling his mistress.
And my husband? My husband decided to take my enemy's daughter out for a good time?
A thought sliced through the fog in my mind. Impossible. And yet—
"Kevin." I stared at him. "You already knew Christina. You knew exactly who she was. Didn't you?"
"I..." He opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyes darted sideways—guilty.
That was all the confirmation I needed.