“The truth?” He laughed bitterly. “You edited that! You’re still as unstable as ever— just like before. You think destroying my name will bring your child back? You think you can put Naomi behind bars? I’ll bail her out before you can even blink! You think you have any power? Your child is gone and you're acting crazy!”
His words felt like a slap to my face, but I didn’t show it.
“You let our daughter’s killer live in our house. You let her wear my clothes, sleep in my bed, call you hers. And you watched me rot in a cell while she smiled beside you.”
“Enough!” he barked. “You were careless! You let the child die, and you’re trying to blame everyone else. You need help, Cassandra.”
I stared at him. My chest felt tight. “I begged you to believe me. You didn’t even come to the trial. You wanted revenge— because I embarrassed you with my depression, with my grief. You wanted a perfect wife, and when I broke, you decided I deserved punishment.”
“You killed our child. You deserved more than eight months in that hell!”