"Irene's always been like this—so dramatic. One little bump and she's in tears."
"Blanche was just toughening her up."
Slap!
I set Irene down and stormed over, cracking my palm across Vincent's face.
He staggered back, hand pressed to his cheek, staring at me in disbelief.
"Margot, have you lost your mind?!"
"Maybe I have!"
I jabbed a finger toward the bruises covering Irene's body, my voice raw.
"You call this roughhousing? You call this toughening her up?"
"Vincent, are you even human?!"
"You watched this child grow up! Do you have any conscience left?!"
Vincent flinched at my fury, backing up a step.
But his shock quickly curdled into rage.
"So what do you want? You're going to tear this family apart over something this small?"
"Blanche already explained—Irene was messing around with classmates and fell on her own."
"Why don't you ask yourself why your daughter has problems? Why does everyone pick on her and no one else?"
I looked at this man I'd shared a bed with for ten years and felt nothing but disgust.
Where was the gentle, attentive husband who used to dote on me and Irene?
Or had this been who he really was all along?
"Fine. That's just fine."
I laughed bitterly, wiping my tears.