Page 150 of The Wrong Brother
“Shannon.”
“No.”
“He needs to answer for what he did.”
“No.”
“He destroyed your life. He stole your daughter.”
“No, Ruslan?—“
I feel my patience fraying. “He’s hurting women now. Were you one of them? I imagine you must have been.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, her hands clenching tight as if she wants to press them over her ears.
“He’s married now. And he’s hurting his wife.”
Her lips move, but I don’t crouch down, can’t hear her.
“He’ll keep doing it.”
“I know,” she barks, her voice breaking on the words. “But I’m scared.”
The confession echoes through the room.
I close the distance between us again. “So am I.”
She stares up at me. “You have power, Ruslan. I don’t have that. I have...” A limp hand gestures around the room.
“I built that power.”
She looks away.
“I don’t have anything to offer you.”
“You have the truth.”
“It isn’t enough.”
“It has to be. Itwillbe.”
I reach into my jacket and remove an envelope. It lands on the coffee table with a hefty sound.
“That’s half a million dollars.”
Her head lifts, brows furrowed once more.
“What?”
“If money is what you need to disappear afterward?—”
“It isn’t.”
“Take it anyway.”
Shannon doesn’t even glance at the envelope. I’m taken aback by the anger I see lining her face, and when she stands, I realize for the first time that she’s almost as tall as me. Worn, tired, but easily as angry as I am.
“I don’t want your money.”
