Caroline doesn't move away from the rug's edge. Her fingers rest on the floral couch, steady as a level. “What happened to my father." It isn't a question so much as a boundary laid on the floor.
Jasper lifts both hands like traffic signs. “Caroline, listen—"
“Don't manage me," she says, eyes flat. “Answer me."
He steps closer, soft-voiced, as if tone could undo facts. “You just got out. Sit down. Eat something. We'll talk when you've steadied."
She takes a single step toward him. “I am steady." The words land with the weight of iron. “What happened."
Fiona drifts nearer, the folded cream sweater clasped to her like a prop. “Caroline, please don't be upset," she whispers. “I never meant—"
Caroline's gaze slices to her, then back to Jasper. “You first."
Jasper moves into her path whe
