“Say it,” I bite out, my eyes already warm with tears as my body begins to shudder with cold. I pull out of his grasp, my hands fists at my sides now.

The doctor speaks next. “Ivy, it’s not good for the baby if you get worked up.”

“Say it!” I snap at Santiago.

Santiago’s jaw sets, and again, I hear his words. “I hope you’ll be as quick to forgive mine.”

But I won’t be. Not if he did what I think he did.

“There was a complication, something the doctor missed.”

I hug my middle, my shoulders hunching as I back up another step, slipping into a chair now. I shake my head and don’t look at him. I can’t.

“He’s gone, Ivy. I’m sorry, but your father is gone.”

I close my eyes as his words echo. Gone. Gone as in I’ll never see him again. Never hear his voice again. Never hug him again.

Gone as in dead.

I shake my head and make myself look at him. “I don’t believe you,” I say, wiping the backs of my hands over my eyes. I force my legs to carry me as I stand. “I don’t.”

“Ivy, you—” He reaches for me, but I slip away.

“I called the hospital. I talked to the nurse. She told me he was fine. Just sleeping. She told me!”

Santiago glances at the doctor as if they’ve had some private exchange, but whatever it is, Santiago raises his hand just slightly as if to tell him to wait.

“I’m truly sorry, Ivy,” Santiago says, solemn gaze on me again. “He died a few hours ago. There was nothing anyone could do.”

“No.” I shake my head, walking a few steps away so I’m near the head of the table where Santiago’s place has been empty for two days. Gone for two days. The two days before my father has a complication out of nowhere. Two days in which my father, his enemy, the enemy under guard, the weak old man under his power, dies. “No,” I say again, setting my jaw. I reach for the steak knife Antonia had set for him. She didn’t even know if he’d be home or not. She’d fretted about keeping his dinner warm. “Tell me the truth.” I keep the knife at my side.

Santiago’s gaze drops to it momentarily before returning to mine. “Put that down, and I’ll tell you everything again.”

“Tell me now,” I say, and when he takes a step closer, I hold the knife out between us.

The doctor watches but stays where he is.

“There was a complication.”

“Something the doctor missed. I heard your practiced words the first time around. Tell me how! Tell me the truth, you fucking liar!”