"Did you say no?" my father said sarcastically. I had my hands on my chin, although I'm sure I would have preferred to have them planted on my face. He would walk back and forth, waving his hands everywhere, occasionally looking at his unfinished whiskey and then at me.

It wasn't my fault that my fiancée had tried to poison me, and it wasn't my fault that her trophy son had been stupid enough not to listen to his older brother. My feet were tapping the ground in agitation, I didn't know what to