By the time she reached the guest room, she was tired. Bone tired.
Her thoughts drifted to Winn. To the stupid inheritance. To her lies. To the way her entire family tree seemed to be held together with secrets and duct tape.
Now she just had to figure out how the hell she would apologize to her brother—how to finally tell him that she had been one of the instruments in destroying his life.
She knew one thing: her relationship with her brother, as she knew it, would come to an abrupt end. Winn adored her, trusted her—even when he was angry, even when he was spiraling, even when he pushed her away, she was still his safe place.
Or at least he thought she was. Sylvia lay flat on her back. But it was time. She had held on to her part in all of this for too long—her silence, her tiny manipulations. At least she was doing something good by keeping Elizabeth safe.
