MR.BLAKE'S POINT OF VIEW
The house felt like a tomb.
I sat in my study, staring at the wall where a family photo had once hung. Nathan had taken it down the night he left. Or maybe Ella had. I didn't know. Didn't have the energy to ask.
It had been five days since Nathan walked out of this house. Five days since he'd told me I'd lost a son. Five days of sitting in this chair, replaying that night twenty-five years ago over and over in my mind.
The fragments were becoming clearer now. Sharper. The hotel room. The woman's face, young and terrified. Her voice saying no. My hands holding her down.
I'd told myself for years it was a nightmare. A hallucination brought on by too much alcohol and grief. I'd lost a billion-dollar contract that week. My company had taken a massive hit. I'd been drinking heavily, trying to numb the failure.
But deep down, in the parts of myself I didn't want to examine, I'd always known it was real.
And I'd done nothing.
