The hall erupted.
Camera flashes went off like a strobe. Reporters surged forward, sharks who had caught the scent of blood.
Robert's face turned to iron, but he forced himself to regain control.
He took a deep breath and arranged his features into an expression of anguished concern. "Vivian, I can see now that you're truly unwell." He addressed the audience in a voice so gentle it dripped with implication. "Ever since Torrin passed, your mental state has been fragile."
He turned back toward me, arms open. "I know you still blame me for keeping his death from you. But I only did it because I was terrified the shock would break you."
He spread his hands wide, the image of a magnanimous protector. "Turn off the screen. Let's go home. I'll find you the best doctors. We'll get you the hel
