"You need to behave. I can't lose you."
His voice dropped low, threaded with something twisted. "Gracie, I'm no longer the boy scavenging rotten vegetables to survive. I'm Victor Weston of Skyfire Tech. My reach is infinite."
The door clicked shut. The lock engaged with finality.
I sat before the vanity, the diary's contents burning in my mind. He was right. Against his capital and power, my resistance was an ant against a tsunami.
A knock. Then that artificial floral perfume—sickeningly sweet.
Georgia slipped in, placing a glass of milk on the table. "Professor Sullivan, please. For your health."
Bile surged. I lashed out, sweeping the glass off the table. It shattered, a jagged shard slicing the top of her foot. Blood bloomed, turning the spilled milk a grotesque pink.
I seized a handful of her hair, yanking her head back until she met my eyes.
"Georgia Kaufman. After all these years—how exactly did I wrong you?" My voice shook. "I brought you to the city. Helped your mother divorce that monster. And you? You let your father lure you back with candied hawthorns. Your mother went to find you and was beaten to death."