His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Beryl crumpled on the floor, blood spreading out from beneath the hem of her dress.
"It wasn't me..."
My words died in my throat, strangled under his hand.
His eyes burning red, he roared at me:
"Veronica! You won't even spare a child! You make me sick!"
"You made Beryl lose her baby, so don't blame me for what I do to your dead parents."
Through my tears of horror and agony, he gave the order:
"Dig up Veronica's parents' graves. Grind the bones to dust and dump them in the sewer."
"No!"
I screamed until my voice broke:
"Dennis! You're insane! There are cameras in the dressing room! Go check! It wasn't me!"
Beryl staggered to her feet, swaying, and lurched toward the window:
"The baby's gone. What's the point of me being alive? I might as well just die!"
"Mrs. Sanchez, go ahead and frame me however you want!"
Dennis went white. He flung me aside and rushed to catch Beryl in his arms.
He stared at me, his expression carved from stone, and spoke one word at a time:
"Veronica. You've used up the last shred of feeling I had for you. You hurt the woman I love and our child. I will never let this go."
His voice dropped, cold and flat: