But the larger part was cowardice, and shame, and the unwillingness of a powerful man to be inconvenienced by his own child.

I gave you money, and I withheld from you everything money is supposed to stand in for.

I gave you security and denied you a name, a father, a brother, a place.

I made you carry my shame as though it were yours, and it was never yours.

It was only ever mine.

I watched Juliet’s face as the words reached her — the apology she had waited her entire life to hear, delivered too late, by a stranger, from a dead man who had been too much of a coward to say it while his mouth could still form the words.

I had expected her to weep harder.