He tuts. “The thing is, Anton, I knew my daughter better than anyone. She was not the type of woman who would ever take her own life. She was far too strong for that.”
He isn’t wrong on one front: I remember just how strong she was. It had taken an iron will to cow that woman. Even then, I couldn’t truly break her.
“She killed herself. Accept it.”
“Or it was made to look that way,” he says. “Not that I can say so definitively. After all, I never saw her body.”
“I was her husband. It was my job to bury her, not yours.”
A shadow flits over Lev’s face. Deception upon deception. And I’m the puppet master of them all.
“Considering the state of your marriage,” he growls, “I would have thought you’d be happy to pass along that responsibility.”
“The responsibility of burying my own wife?” I
