I would not let him see me beg, or rage, or weep, because those were the only things he might have taken pleasure in, and I would not give him the pleasure.

Mr.

Christopher had taught me that — that there is a silence that is not submission but its opposite, the silence of a person who has decided that the man in front of her is not worth the breath.

I gave Justin that silence.

I did not know, walking out of that library, that his father had arranged for the silence to have the last word.

But even if I had known nothing, even if the story had ended there, in defeat, I would still have walked out with the one thing he could not take from me, which was the refusal to let him see me broken.