The dining room erupted. Forks clattered against plates as people shifted in their seats. Aunt Patricia’s hand flew to her mouth. Grandmother Elellanar gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white.
“How dare you record private conversations?” Martha shrieked, but James held up his hand.
“There’s more.”
He continued scrolling to another file. This time it was Robert’s voice.
“We trained Crystal well. She’s been paying Emma’s way since high school. Why should that stop? Now Emma knows how to work the guilt. She’s got years of practice.”
Voir la suite sur la page suivante:
