Thora’s POV
I even got hit by the headlines before eating breakfast. I was filling cereal for Avis when my phone kept vibrating. Texts, emails, missed calls. My lawyer. My mother. Even my colleagues I hadn’t spoken to in months. It was swarming—the sound. I put the box down and rubbed my hands on my jeans; the cardboard edge hurt my palm. Milk sloshed against the phone as it vibrated on the counter.
I picked it up and there it was. A photo. Avis. Her face, blurred but still hers, splashed across a gossip site. I felt sick before I’d even learned to read the words properly:
“Palmer Love Child? Who Is the Real Father of Thora Greenwood’s Daughter?”
It felt like human hands around my throat. My hand went numb on the phone. The milk spilled in the bowl and I didn’t stop it. Avis looked up,
