hrough the despair. "That report is a lie," she said, her voice shaking but hol

hope. A plea for

ed at the corner of his mouth. "An independent clinic? Eleanor, have you forgotten? In thi

hope inside her went dark. He could control the story. He could

om the deepest part of her. "Why do you hate me this much? What did I ev

ur brother murdered Genevieve," he snarled, his voice raw with old pai

same false accusations that were the foundation of t

in arguing. He was

second a reminder of the time her grandfather was

ion finally crushed what was le

"Just... just lend me the money. For my grandfat

nfession of complet

tisfaction of a victor. He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat c

ropped to a low, intimate murmur

erate hope flick

er was for her alone, a secret, shameful contract.

le body went rigid with shock. This wasn't a transa

se in her throat. It was the pregnancy

ict, no remorse. Just cold, hard resolve. She had

free and traced a cold path down her chee

discarded doll. Her body ached, but it was a dull, distan

e disappeared into the en-suite bathroom. When he came out, he was already dressed

creen, and his entire demeanor shifted. A softness came

ri

listened. He murmured soothing words, his tone patient and car

ey had just shared. The sheer, staggering hypocrisy of it was a final, devastating blow. She wasn

nity-it all belonged to someone el