We didn’t know!
We didn’t know who you were!
It was our father!
He made us do it!”
“Shut up, you coward!”
Marcus roared at his brother, though his own jaw was trembling uncontrollably.
“None of you get to blame each other,” I said coldly.
“You stood outside Clara’s ICU room and laughed.
You handed a bribe to a surgeon to steal my newborn baby girl and sell her into the dark.”
Arthur gasped.
“The… the baby…”
“She’s alive,” I said.
A momentary flash of calculation crossed Arthur’s old eyes—the instinct of a rat trying to negotiate its way out of a trap.
“Adrian… if she’s alive, then no harm was done!
We can make a deal!
I’ll sign over the entire Montgomery estate to Clara!
Every stock, every acre!
Just let my sons go!
Don’t ruin our name!”
I stared at him for a long, agonizing moment, then let out a soft, dark laugh.
“You still don’t get it, do you, Arthur?”
I said, standing up.
