Bernice fixed her gaze on Tessa and spoke with a calm that felt like steel. “There is an explanation. It is in the sewing room. It is in the open box of pins on the table. It is in the way you told everyone he was injuring himself. It is in the way you talked about sending him away.”
Preston swayed as the truth collided with him. He looked at Milo. He looked at the marks on his skin. He remembered every night he forced his son to sleep here. He remembered every time he dismissed the child’s cries as lies. The understanding hit him like a blow.
“I did this,” he whispered. “I hurt him. I let this happen.”
Tessa tried to back away, stammering excuses. Preston stepped forward and pointed to the doorway. “Get out. Leave now. Before I call the police and have you arrested. You will never come near my son again.”
Tessa sputtered, gathered her belongings, and fled. The door slammed behind her like a final sentence.
Preston collapsed beside Milo and pulled him into his arms. His shoulders shook with sobs. “I am so sorry. I should have listened. I should have protected you. Forgive me. Please.” His tears fell into Milo’s hair.