“I’d have to re-paint eventually,” Daphne says.

“My god.”

I can only describe the way they fight as extremely Morelli. Daphne bickers with a smile on her face, and Leo splits the difference between looking pissed off and amused. They could be having a lighthearted back-and-forth about a book or a TV show.

Everything I heard about Leo before I met him painted him as dangerously volatile, at the mercy of his runaway temper. Not capable of a conversation like this one.

In reality, it’s the other way around. Life has caused him so much pain that he has no choice but to be in complete control of himself. It’s very rare for his anger to overpower him, and when it does, it’s because the situation is unbearable.

Not so different from some of the Constantines I know.

People are having a good time. There are smiles on faces and drinks in hands, and the swell of conversation is the normal lift and fall of a large group. Laughter bubbles over from a pair of women nearby. If the Morellis really were all unhinged murderers, why would anyone be at this party? If they were the true scum of the earth, why would all these people have dressed up in their best black tie?

They’re not. That’s the real answer. The Morellis, like the Constantines, are haughty and privileged and ultimately decent people who care about each other. They have their complications. Some of them are better than others. But I can’t judge the evil ones more harshly than the Constantines. Not now that I know the truth about Caroline. Both families have their monsters.

“That’s my daughter.” My dad steps around a couple, who move out of his way with indulgent smiles. My brother is right behind him. “Sweetheart. We just got here a few minutes ago. This place is enormous.” He gives me a quick hug. “Leo! Daphne. Thought we’d get lost finding you. Lots of people here, eh?”

“Dad!” My dad got a smudge of make-up on the breast of his black tux. I wipe at it. “Be more careful,” I scold, but there’s no heat in it. I’m too happy to see a familiar face in this sea of unfamiliar ones.

“Sorry. Have my head in the clouds,” he says ruefully.

“Or more specifically, in his latest invention,” Cash says, looking grown up in his tux. He hugs me, too, more careful of my makeup. “Hey, Hales. You look great.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I’m happy to talk about it.” Leo’s smile is indulgent. “In fact I saw the Chaplin brothers across the ballroom. They own a manufacturing factory that might be perfect for—”

My father’s eyes light up. “You think they have the precision? We need a variation of no more than 0.04 millimeters to get the calibration correct.”

“Let’s go ask them,” Leo says.