“I don’t know if I can. I did awful things, Theo . . .”

“I have faith in you,” I told her. “So did Caroline.”

When my stepmother finished her weeklong program, she opted to stay with Teddy and me, telling my father she didn’t feel ready to talk quite yet. She asked him to come over late on a Thursday afternoon.

When my father arrived, he clapped me on the back, as if he hadn’t spent my entire life gaslighting me. “You’re looking well, son.” He grinned at me, and I attempted to smile back.

“Come sit in the parlor, Father. I can’t even remember when you last visited. What can I offer you to drink?”

“Something celebratory. Sancerre—or even champagne,” he answered.

“Ursula just got out of her detox program,” I said. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Let’s be realistic,” he said. “She’ll never be able to stop drinking. Why pretend?”

“It’s strange how you like to say what’s past is past, and yet you think people should be trapped by their history,” I said. “I believe people are capable of far greater change than you realize.”

He shrugged. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment, son.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Perhaps not.”

There were footsteps behind me.

“I heard a request for sparkling,” Juliet said. “Theo has a fine assortment of imported waters. Shall I pour you a glass?”

“I’m not keeping alcohol in the house these days,” I explained.

It took our father a moment to recover. “Well, I am surprised to see you here, Juliet.”

“Why? My brother and I have been discussing history lately. It’s a subject we both enjoy.”

“I know,” our father answered casually. “But it seems like just the other day you were telling me you wished your brother had died instead of Caroline.”

His basilisk eyes stayed on hers. Juliet faltered, freezing in place. Divide and conquer. That had always been our father’s strategy. He controlled the two of us by fueling our long-standing rivalry.

“I wouldn’t blame Juliet for that,” I said. “I’ve wished the same thing myself.”

My sister glanced at me, amused and maybe even slightly relieved. It seemed to propel her forward. “What’s that saying of yours, Father? ‘A liar has to have a perfect memory.’ Yours is impressively sharp.”

“I can recall my Shakespeare, at least. ‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.’ Or, in my case, two thankless children. After everything I’ve done for the pair of you, this is how you repay me?”

“Don’t even start,” Juliet said. “I’ve devoted my life to running your company. I’ve done everything you ever asked of me. You owe me answers. You owe us both.”