She glared at Elara Joyce, her eyes rimmed with red.
"That's all just your speculation! I grew up in the Prescott Family, and since I was little, he's always been my uncle. I've never forgotten who I am! No matter what people say, no matter the rumors or misunderstandings, none of it changes that fact!"
Elara listened to her outburst, but there wasn't a hint of anger on her face.
She stood up slowly, reached out, and gently but firmly pressed Vivian Sinclair back into her seat.
"Vivian, I'm saying all this, not to blame you."
Vivian Sinclair's mind went blank.
Her heart pounded violently, a buzzing in her ears.
Suddenly, she regretted it—a regret that she hadn't insisted on leaving Varden back then.
If only she'd left earlier, gone somewhere no one knew her.
Maybe then, there wouldn't be this humiliation and torment today.
The thoughts she hid so carefully, those feelings even she was afraid to examine deeply.
