“If this is your revenge on me for stubbornly keeping my child, then shouldn’t his death have pleased you enough?! I was incarcerated for a year! I’ve lost everything I’ve ever had! Everything… God… What will it take for you to be satisfied? To let me go?

“I’ve already regretted ever taking up the… the toxic mantle of being the fake Mrs. Brighthall, and I don’t want it anymore… Let me go, I’m begging you… I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to be Mrs. Brighthall anymore…”

She swooned after that.

Brendan released her. His chest was filled with pain, a pain so great that he could not contain it. It pressed against his lungs, denying him any chance to breathe.

What was going on?

He had always seen himself as an ubermensch—unstoppable and almost omnipotent. And yet he could not answer this one simple question. His mind was beleaguered by sheer frustration. He stood on the balcony and began to empty his cigarette pack, as though he was trying to self-medicate, however temporarily,