She gasped as her shoulders came forward, the muscles cramped from being held too long in one position, and I got an arm under her and eased her down to sit on the cool marble floor rather than let her fall.

“I’m so sorry, Mr.

David,” she whispered, and it broke something in me that her first instinct, after everything, was to apologize to me.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Teresa,” I said, and I made myself say it slowly enough that she would hear that I meant it.

“Nothing.

Do you hear me?

Not one thing.

Whatever she made you believe in the last few hours, none of it was true.” Behind me, Vanessa gave a short, dry laugh, the sound of a woman who cannot believe the room has stopped revolving around her.