Chapter 13
Victor broke because Adrian recognized him.
The boy looked across the room.
“You came to our apartment.”
Victor lowered his eyes.
I looked at Adrian.
“When?”
He thought carefully.
“Birthday with the blue cake.”
Elena’s face tightened.
I turned to Victor.
“What happened?”
He sighed.
“Anthony was dying.”
Seven years ago.
My father’s final months.
“He wanted to see Adrian.”
Elena nodded.
“I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because Anthony didn’t want a relationship. He wanted control.”
Victor continued.
“Isabella said we could force Elena.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
He said nothing.
Elena did.
“They cut the electricity.”
Khloe closed her eyes.
“Then the heat.”
Silence.
“It was January.”
I stared at Isabella.
Adrian had been an infant.
Her face remained cold.
“Elena could have left.”
Again.
That language.
The victim always had another choice.
As long as the choice meant surrender.
Elena continued.
“Then food deliveries stopped reaching the building.”
Victor looked away.
I understood the pattern.
The staged falls were only the visible edge.
Isabella’s real talent was controlling basics.
Heat.
Food.
Safety.
Access.
Then blaming the victim for needing them.
Khloe looked at me.
“She was practicing long before the accidents.”
I nodded.
That was the truth.
If Elena froze, she should have left.
If Khloe fell, she was clumsy.
If Adrian was hungry, Elena was irresponsible.
If I doubted Isabella, I was weak.
Every cruel act came with an explanation that blamed the person being hurt.
Adrian looked at Isabella.
“Why do you hate us?”
Her face changed.
For the first time, the question came from someone she could not easily treat as a rival.
“I don’t.”
Adrian frowned.
“Then why did Mom cry when you came?”
May you like
No answer.
Simple questions are dangerous to people who survive through complicated excuses.
