What the Bread Was For

Desmond had thought, walking in with his folder, that he wanted her to be sorry.

He saw now that she would never be sorry, because sorrow requires valuing what you broke, and Junia had never valued Marlowe or Posy or even Desmond himself as anything more than props in her performance.

What she would feel, instead, was the specific agony of a performer whose audience has finally stood up and left.

It was not justice, exactly.

But it was the closest thing the world had to offer, and he let it happen, and he did not look away from her face while it did.

Chapter 23 — Restitution