“No,” the lawyer said. “You abused her. She survived by sheer luck.”
Ryan laughed again, a laugh too high-pitched. “You think I’m going to jail for a little family argument?”
My father picked up his watch from the table and pressed the button on the side. A red light flashed.
Ryan stared.
“Your confession on the cake was recorded,” my father said. “So was the part where you claimed the spot where my daughter could stand.” And also your mother’s interference with the tests.
Marlene whispered, “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can,” my father said. “And so can Ava. This is her house. Her kitchen. Her birthday. You two were guests who forgot you were disposable.”
The word hit Ryan like a slap.
His guests stopped laughing. One by one, they backed into the living room, avoiding his gaze, prioritizing their future over their egos.
