“Claire…” Daniel’s voice broke into a desperate sob. “I’m standing outside the precinct in the rain. I don’t have an umbrella. I don’t have enough money for a taxi back to Connecticut. I have five dollars in my wallet. Five dollars. Is this what you wanted? To reduce me to nothing?”
“No, Daniel,” I said, looking across the table at my mother, whose eyes were soft with understanding. “I didn’t reduce you to nothing. You were already nothing. You were an empty suit propped up by my money and your father’s illusions. I just took away the props.”
“Claire—!”
“If you ever call this number again, Daniel, Julian will file a restraining order. Have a good life.”
I tapped the red button, ending the call.
I picked up my iced latte, took a slow, refreshing sip, and looked at my father. “Now, Dad. Let’s talk about that trip to Tuscany you and Mom have been postponing for fifteen years.”
