“Your father wasn’t senile, Evan,” I said, my voice steady, ringing with absolute clarity.

“He was afraid of you.”

Evan’s chest heaved.

The polished, charismatic CEO was vanishing, replaced by the cornered predator I’d always known lurked beneath the tailored wool.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Margaret,” he hissed, glancing nervously at the journalists scribbling frantically in the back pews.

Mr. Halden tapped the paper against the pulpit.

“I must ask for silence. There is more.”

Celeste let out a sharp, brittle sound—a hysterical bark of a laugh.