“For once,” I say quietly, “your father is right.”
I look at Gale, and for the first time since I walked into this room, I don’t feel afraid of him. I feel nothing but contempt.
“You killed my baby,” I say. “And you never even acknowledged it happened.”
Gale’s expression twists into something ugly.
“You f*****g set me up—”
“Apologize. That child was Crawford blood you spilled.”
Harrison’s tone changes, and Gale flinches so hard he nearly knocks over his wine glass.
“Apologize to her,” Harrison repeats, and there’s something cold and terrible building behind his eyes. “Right now.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Gale’s voice rises, taking on a desperate, pleading edge. “She’s lying. She’s always been a liar. She provoked me, she pushed me, she made me—”
“Apologize.”
“Father, please—
