"That's absurd. Grief affects people differently. You know that."
"What I know," Stefan said slowly, "is that I'm beginning to wonder if I ever knew you at all."
The door opened again before I could respond. This time my parents stood in the threshold, my mother's eyes red-rimmed, my father's face grim.
"Rose." My father's voice, usually so warm when addressing me, had gone cold. "We need to talk."
Four people in my small office now, the walls closing in. I'd faced criticism before, weathered minor scandals, but never this coordinated attack from all sides.
"Not now," I said, desperation leaking into my voice. "I'm dealing with a PR crisis, as you can see."
"A PR crisis?" My mother stepped forward, brandishing her phone. "Is that what you call sleeping with a married man while you w
