“Fiona, you’re upset. Let me handle this.”
“No,” I said. “You handled enough.”
Then Victor stepped in behind me.
Mark’s expression hardened immediately.
“Get him out.”
I moved in front of Victor.
“His name is Victor. He’s Mom’s brother.”
Aunt Linda gasped.
“But you said he died, Mark!”
Mark snapped back.
“Because that was easier.”
“Easier for who?” I asked.
He looked toward his wife, waiting for support.
I lifted Mom’s letter.
“She wrote everything down. You threatened her, used her poverty against her, and made her believe loving her brother could cost her daughter.”
“I protected this family,” Mark said.
“No. You protected the version where Victor didn’t exist.”
Victor’s voice shook, but he stood straight.
“I chose Stephanie when you chose appearances.”
Mark grabbed his coat.
“You’ll regret this, Fiona. He’ll suck the life out of you. He did that to Stephanie.”
“I already regret too much,” I said. “But not this.”
Aunt Linda stepped between him and the hallway table where Mom’s papers were stacked.
“Leave the box,” she told her husband.
