was gone.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly, but the sound trembled.
“Eleanor was paranoid.”
“She was right.”
My father slammed his palm onto the counter.
“Enough.”
No one moved.
He had used that voice my entire life. The voice that ended conversations. The voice that sent me upstairs when Vanessa cried, that made servants lower their eyes, that convinced me my pain continue reading …
