I turn to Mira. “And you. Standing there acting holy like you didn’t bleed on the same tables I did.”
Mira stiffens.
Her lips part, but no words come out.
“I’m tired of your pretending,” I continue. “Tired of you judging me like you didn’t make the same choices.”
Her face twists. “What are you talking about?”
I lean forward.
“You act pious,” I say quietly, “but you’ve had abortions too. Twice.”
Silence.
The room stills.
The maids freezes. Martha’s mouth falls open, shock etched across her face.
Color drains from Mrs Ford's face. “W—what did you say?”
“Mira had two abortions,” I repeat, anger buzzing in my bones.
Mrs. Ford shakes her head rapidly, laughing in disbelief, her fingers trembling.
“No. That’s a lie.” She turns to Mira. “Darling, tell me she’s lying.”
Mira sits stif
