“Then we destroy you,” she said simply. “In court, in the press, and in your own family.”

She walked toward the hallway, then stopped and looked back at me.

“My father is a proud man, Grace,” she said. “But he is tired.”

“Is he?” I asked.

“He thinks he’s protecting us by keeping quiet,” she said. “He thinks he’s the shield.”

She shook her head, a brief flash of genuine irritation crossing her face.

“He doesn’t realize we are the ones holding him up,” she said.

“He’s consumed by guilt, Cassandra,” I said. “I’ve seen him. He can barely look at Ethan.”

“Guilt is a useless emotion,” she said. “It makes people sloppy.”

She turned and opened the apartment door, the draft from the hallway blowing inside.

“Think about your brother,” she said. “He really does love me, you know.”

“He loves the woman he thinks you are,” I said.

“Same thing,” she said.

She stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

The latch clicked into place with a sharp, final sound.