Chapter 4

That sound — plastic shattering on stone — went off like a thunderclap inside my skull.

I stared at the dark stain spreading through the snow where the medication had been.

That was Nora's last chance.

Gone.

All of it, gone.

"No — !"

A sound ripped out of me that I didn't recognize, raw and animal and broken. I clawed at the ground with both hands, trying to scrape up the snow that had swallowed the liquid.

Even a little. Even one drop.

I cupped a handful of dirty, contaminated snow and crawled back to Nora on my knees.

"Take it, baby, come on, the medicine..."

I tried to press the snow to her lips.

But her teeth were clenched shut. Nothing was getting through.

Her body had gone completely cold.

No movement at all.

That silence hit me like a blade driven through my chest and twisted.

"No... no..."

My hands shook as I reached for her pulse.

Nothing.

I checked her breathing.

Nothing.

I pressed my ear to her chest.

Nothing.

My entire world collapsed in that moment.

On the second-floor balcony, Susan and Jason were still laughing.

"Look at him trying to feed her snow. Ha!"

"Father-daughter bond, truly moving stuff."

Susan leaned lazily against the railing, a slim cigarette held between her fingers.

"Ethan, drop the act."

"You've had your fun. Now take your little bastard and get off my property."

"You're ruining the vibe."

I raised my head slowly.

No tears on my face.

Just blood, and melted snow.

My eyes were empty, hollow as a dried-out well, fixed on Susan without blinking.

Something in that look made her pause mid-laugh.

She frowned, almost involuntarily.

"What is that look?"

"What, you want to kill me?"

"Think you've got what it takes? You worthless piece of nothing."

I didn't answer.

I just reached down, gently, carefully, and lifted Nora into my arms.

She was so light.

Light as a feather.

Five years old, and she barely weighed forty-five pounds.

Because Susan always said girls needed to watch their figures. Don't eat too much.

Because Susan always said asthma was a rich girl's condition. Skip a few meals, it'll clear up.

I pressed my face against Nora's cold, still cheek.

"Rest now, baby."

"Daddy's taking you home."

"It's too cold here. And the people are too ugly inside."

I held my daughter and turned and walked into the storm.

Behind me, I heard Jason's voice.

"Babe, he's actually leaving."

"That kid... you don't think she actually...?"

Susan made a dismissive sound.

"Die? It's not that easy to die."

"It's all a performance. He's trying to make me feel guilty."

"Tomorrow morning he'll be right back on his knees at the front door begging for forgiveness."

"Forget him. Let's keep drinking."

"Oh, and post that video from earlier to your Instagram. Caption it something like: 'Abusive ex stages breakdown to steal custody money.' Let everyone see exactly what kind of man he is."

I kept walking through the storm, listening to every word.

Each one landed like a nail driven into bone.

I wasn't angry anymore.

I mean it.

Anger is cheap. It's a feeling for the living.

For the dead, there's no need for anger.

I carried Nora. One step at a time. Out of the neighborhood.

Out of the place I used to think was home.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

My assistant calling.

I picked up. My voice came out quieter than I expected. Steadier than it had any right to be.

"Yeah."

"Boss! You finally picked up! About the company—"

"Never mind that."

I cut him off.

"Initiate the Judgment protocol."

Silence on the other end. A full five seconds.

"Boss, are you sure? Once it starts, the Sullivan family is finished. Everything you've built over the past five years—"

"I said initiate it."

I looked down at my daughter's face, still and pale in my arms, and a slow, cold smile formed at the corner of my mouth.

"And get me a coffin."

"Best quality wood you can find."

"Also, contact every media outlet in the city."

"Three days from now, I'm going to deliver Susan a gift she'll never forget."