Chapter 90: The Full Story
Reese
Standing in that sterile hospital room, listening to Lauren spin her web of victimhood, felt like having my soul slowly drained through a straw.
Every sob, every weak cough, every theatrical flutter of her lashes was calculated. She lay on the hospital bed like a tragic heroine, pale and fragile, while Lizzie and I were forced to endure the performance.
“I didn’t want to cause trouble, Dad,” she whimpered, voice cracking beautifully. “I just wanted him to give me a chance to explain. I just wanted him to talk to me.” She dissolved into another round of delicate sobs, then coughed—very theatrically, I might add.
Her assistant-s***h-f**k-buddy was instantly at her side, holding a bottle of water to her lips as if she had just emerged from a three-week
