Twenty years earlier
Adelaide
"No," I repeated, as my mother, Olivia, held tightly to my hand.
There had been so many conversations and decrees I'd heard while within the regal walls of my father's home office. For all of my life it had been his throne room, his center for control. From within this room he'd make decisions and pass judgment, but today was different. Charles Montague II wasn't telling. Like my mother and me, he was listening. Today's news affected us all.
"Mrs. Collins, the LAPD has significant evidence to believe the driver of the car was indeed your husband, Russell Collins."
"It can't be. He was just here. He's on a business trip. I spoke to him yesterday."
"What time did you speak to him?"
My mind was a blur. It had been later, after dinner. Our conversation w
