"Tomorrow is the cremation," Julian took a deep breath, his tone heavy. "Once it's done, if you want to leave, then leave. I won't stop you. That boy doesn't deserve you. He shouldn't hold you back any longer, shouldn't make you suffer anymore. What the Simmons family owes you, owes those children—we can never repay it. Not in this lifetime."
I lifted my head and looked at his aged face, at the guilt and heartache in his eyes. Tears welled up again, unstoppable.
I said nothing. I only bowed deeply. As I bent at the waist, tears fell in heavy drops onto the wooden floor, each one landing with a soft sound, each one carrying my endless pain and gratitude.
I was grateful for Julian's twenty-some years of care, grateful for his love and protection all these years, grateful for his understanding now. But I also knew this gratitude could never outweigh the hatred in my heart. I could forgive everyone in the Simmons family—everyone except Max. I could never forgive the man who had killed my children with his own hands. Never forgive the man who had destroyed my life.
After the bow, I straightened up. Still without a word, I turned and walked out of Julian's bedroom.