Chapter 8 — What You’ve Done

The pounding rattled the glass in the front door.

“Sienna, open this door!” my father shouted from the porch.

“We need to discuss what you’ve done!” I stood in the hallway and did not move toward him.

In my hand was a folder, and in the folder was the paperwork that confirmed the thing my family had discovered only that morning, six months too late.

Because I had not been idle, in my silence.