Desi stared at Lucas, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of her glass. Her eyes haunted by the mistakes of her past, glistering with tears.
“That’s how I became a murderer,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “My relationship with my mother has never been the same. I killed my sister.”
Lucas stared at her. He had been quiet throughout her entire story, but now he could breathe. He was wrong about her and that made him happy.
He leaned forward, taking her hands in his. “Desi, you didn’t kill her,” he said softly. “Your father did.”
Desi shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “No, Lucas. If I hadn’t trusted him, if I hadn’t believed his lies, Anna would still be alive. I handed her to him on a silver platter.”
Lucas exhaled, his gaze piercing. “You were a teenager, Desi.
