“Oh, would you stop with the theatrics! For god’s sake, Parker. That was years ago. If you haven’t moved past your experience there, it certainly was the right place for you.” She sits back, pulling her hands into her lap. “My only regret was not listening to James Foller and sending you there sooner.”

I almost fall down. “What? What did you say?”

“The moment you started acting out at school, Mr. Foller suggested we look into alternative treatment for you. He had previous students who had success in the program. But your father”—Mom points at Dad and rolls her eyes—“he’s a bit of a softy. He thought you’d grow out of it. But I knew all along. You’d only grow worse. And you proved me right.”

My heart twists and my gut sinks. My pulse pounds in my ears. I knew Mr. Foller was ruthless. But now I know, he’s evil.

“Mr. Foller said,” Mom continues, “that they had an excellent success rate in turning kids around. But I guess we can’t be right all the time.”

It takes a second for me to push the words through my trembling lips. “Get out.”

“Parker—”

“Don’t tell me to stop with the theatrics. I’ll never say anything more real than this.” I lean forward and stare them both down. “I hope you both go to hell.”

Dad looks away.

“Especially you,” I tell him. “You are a softy. You’re weak. And you know what? One day, the whole world is going to know that you’re nothing but a lying alcoholic who only amounted as far as his name would get him and needs his wife to carry him the rest of the way. Honey thought that about you all her life.” I pause, turning my attention to my mother. “And you. I don’t have words anymore, Candice. When Karma comes for you, you better be ready.”

Mom tilts her head. “What a joy you are. And to think we were coming to talk about Captain’s Cottage.”

“I don’t want it. I won’t be involved with your campaign at all anymore.”

Dad hangs his head. “Parker⁠—”

“Do you know what I was going to do to that place?” I lower my voice. “Burn it to the ground.”

Now I get something from my mother—the slightest tightening of her jaw.

I move to the front door and yank it open. “You can leave. And take your henchmen with you,” I snarl.

“Parker,” Dad says. “We’re not going anywhere until we talk about all this. Enough with the drama.”

“You clearly haven’t seen anything yet,” I say, pulling out my phone and swiping at the screen.

Mom rises from the barstool.