“But Huxley Lasker doesn’t want to be part of his family! Look how he refused to join the firm,” Nelson points out.
“He still has the Huxley cane! And no matter how she grouses in public, Catalina adores that boy, and Grace as well, becauseshe is now a Huxley through marriage! You amoral, self-centeredimbeciles!”
“It’s just my word against hers,” Mick scoffs. “And who’s more credible? I’m the DA.”
I’ve heard enough. “Ah yes. Credibility.” I walk into the room, twirling my cane casually.
Mick brims with smug defiance, and Nelson and Karie are wary. But Andreas takes in the sight of my cane, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he pales. He knows what this means, despite my outwardly calm mien.
“How is Grace doing? I wanted to stop by, but I’ve been busy at work,” Nelson says quickly.
“A bit late to ask, isn’t it?” My eyes slide over to Andreas, and the corners of my lips lift. “All that fuss to cement our family ties, only to destroy them. What a waste, eh?”
Andreas and Nelson frown, the former in trepidation, the latter likely wondering how he’s going to pull his family out of this mess.
“Huxley.” Karie gives me her typical fake smile. “I don’t know what you think happened—”
“I saw what happened, Karie. I carried my wife out, remember?”
She shuts up.
“So you saw her slip,” Mick says shamelessly.
“Did she slip?” The rage in my heart no longer burns. It’s so arctic now, even my skull feels frigid. “Let’s go see where it happened. It might jog my memory.”
Mick hesitates.
“You're the DA, right? Isn’t that what you do when you have a witness whose details seem a bit muddled?” I ask with a honeyed smile.
He smiles back in relief. “Of course.”
He and I go to the long staircase.
“Here.” He gestures. “Better?”
I look down. The floor has been wiped clean, leaving nothing but sparkling marble. They might’ve been able to clean up the blood, but not their crime against my wife.
“Hmm. Why don’t we go up to where she slipped?” I say.
“Yeah, sure.” He and I walk together.
I count each step.One… Two… Three…
And with each number, my mind conjures the image of my wife’s delicate body hitting the edges, her skin tearing, more and more bruises appearing until a bone in her forearm fractures.The icy anger in my chest swells until it feels like my heart will burst with wrath.
The doctor said she was lucky. The one who’s really lucky is Mick, because if she’d been permanently injured, I would’ve broken his neck.
We reach the top of the stairs. Twenty steps total. I inhale deeply, rein in the fury. It’s not time yet.
“Just between you and me,” Mick begins, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I know you never wanted the baby. So. It’s like an at-home abortion.” He sniffs. “You’re welcome.”
Oh, you motherfucker. “Mick.” I clap my hand on his shoulder. “It’s only an abortion if the baby is unwanted. Otherwise, it’s murder.”
Shock flares in his beady eyes. “Don’t tell me you want the thing! You had to marry Grace rather than Viv because of that clump of cells. That ‘baby’ was just an indiscretion, nothing more, just like Grace was an indiscretion my father wishes he could erase.”
I cast my gaze at a spot behind him. “Ooh, a fly!”
“What?” He turns his head.
