The atmosphere at the estate shifted from a sanctuary to a courtroom. When Arm heard the front door slam and saw Mild marching toward the study, he stood up with a smile that quickly died when he saw the look of absolute devastation and fury in Mild's eyes.
Mild threw the grainy photograph onto the desk, the paper sliding across the mahogany until it hit Arm's hand.
"Ten years ago," Mild's voice was a jagged blade. "A hit-and-run at the corner of 5th and Main. My mother died in the rain while the driver sped away. Why was your car there, Arm? Why was the car your father gave you for your nineteenth birthday the last thing my mother ever saw?"
Arm looked down at the photo, his face turning a ghostly shade of grey. He picked it up, his fingers trembling. "Mild... I... I have never hit anyone with a car. I've never been in an accident like this. I would have remembered. I would have felt the impact."
