His mouth trembled. “Mom said—”
He stopped.
I leaned closer. “Say it.”
He swallowed.
“Mom said you were going to abandon us.”
“Us?”
His eyes flicked up, desperate now. “Me. Her. The life we built.”
“The life I funded.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” I said. “Fair ended when I woke up with my head shaved.”
He flinched as though I had shouted.
