Rage and despair shattered every last thread of restraint. I slammed the door open, seized Julie's wrist, and squeezed. "Say that again. Was it true?"
Julie shrieked. "Geraldine! You're hurting me!"
Piers's expression darkened. He shoved me away without hesitation.
My lower back cracked against the edge of the table. White-hot pain shot up my spine.
He looked down at me with undisguised irritation. "Geraldine. Stop making a scene."
"Making a scene?" My voice shook. "Then explain. The consent form to withdraw life support. My babies. Were you two behind all of it? And weren't you supposed to be in a car accident?"
"You've been too anxious lately. You're having delusions." Piers furrowed his brow, his concern as convincing as it was hollow. "Losing the baby devastated me just as much as it did you. And there was no consent form. That never happened."
"As for the accident," he sighed, the picture of patient indulgence, "you ruined the surprise, but I know you didn't mean to. I don't blame you."
His gaze was steady and open, as though I were the unreasonable one.