Too Late For Regret, Mr. Preston

herself on a narrow, hard bed in a room painted a dull, lifeless white. An IV li

ssive face entered the room

he were reading a weather report. "But the situation is ex

ord was so clinical, so detached. It wasn't a baby

corner, as if he owned the place. He was calmly dabbing at the bite mark on his hand with

y flinch. She tried to press herself into th

and rose to his feet. He walked to her bedside and stood over her, his shadow falling

t onto the bed beside her. The sc

eporters outside their small suburban home. They looked old and frail. The headline at the b

squeezing the air from her lungs. This was h

ped, her throat raw. "This

reply. "Whether it does or not," he

f papers and a pen

than his rage. "It attests that you were having an affair with Attorney Sullivan. It states that he coerce

destroying her. He was going to take down the one person w

her head. "I won't. Attorney

, revealing the cold fury beneath. "You are

buzzed. He answered it

? Oh, honey, they took your father! The IRS, they just... they came and

, tracing paths through the grime on her cheeks. Her father was the most

mother's desperate cries. He watched

the investigation disappears. Your father comes home. Refuse, and he will die in prison. Your mot

her where she was most vulnerable. He was using

e document on the table. A confession fille

t answer, only different degrees of wrong. Condemn a

ith a cold, triumphant satisfaction. He was e

r surrender. "One: you sign the document. I let your family

st and recover" was a euphemism

y piece, right before your eyes. And then," he paused, letting the weigh

cape. The cage was already locked. The only choice he was givi

of utter, soul-crushing despair washed over her, so powerful it felt

w he h

it into her cold, unresponsive ha

voice soft, almost hypnotic. "Just