The next day at noon, Roland and Marguerite came to find me.
Roland's temples had gone completely gray. Marguerite's eyes were red and swollen. They looked nothing like the people they'd been 6 years ago at Selena's son's one-month party.
Marguerite pushed a shopping bag toward me.
"Alia," her voice trembled slightly, "it's windy out. This is a coat from that brand you used to love. I just bought it."
Roland placed a rosewood box on the table and slid it toward me.
"This is a transfer agreement for thirty percent of Winters Group shares. It's effective immediately upon signing." He paused and flipped open the lid. "And this. The dagger you've always wanted."
The blade lay on a velvet cushion.
6 years ago, I'd fled back to the family covered in blood. I'd knelt on the floor, begging
