I gasped. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
My mother, standing near the window, let out a broken laugh.
My father sat beside her, holding her hand like he was afraid she would vanish.
Nathaniel looked at them.
“I hated you for years,” he said quietly.
My father bowed his head. “You had every right.”
“Calloway told me you traded me for the ledger.”
My mother whispered, “No.”
“I know now.” Nathaniel looked at the floor. “But knowing doesn’t erase the years.”
“No,” my father said. “It doesn’t.”
The silence that followed was painful, but honest.
Celeste arrived at midnight under guard.
My father rose instantly.
But she did not look at him.
She looked at me.
“I told them where Margot is buried,” she said.
My mother gripped the chair.
Celeste’s voice trembled. “Calloway killed her when I was twelve. He told me she ran.”
For the first time, I saw the child inside her.
