KNOX’S POV

“Was I not running this fucking house?” she whispers, her teeth gritted as she steps even closer.

“Was I not?” She is visibly shaking now. “Day in and day out. For ten years after Celeste passed, who kept this place moving? Who did the staff come to? Who sat up with the kitchen girls when they cried for home? Who wrote to their mothers? Who paid for a doctor out of her own pocket when you were too busy to approve the paperwork on time?”

Her hands come up, palms open. “Those girls were sick, Knox. Sick for weeks. Everyone else walked past that corridor holding their breath...