Chapter Sixty
Edward stared at the place where she had stood.
His heart had already shattered into a million screaming pieces.
She was gone.
Nothing else mattered.
He had lost her.
Whatever the authorities did to him, he did not care.
His life was over.
His precious CJ was lost to him.
He closed his eyes and wrapped the agony into a small mental box and stored it away.
Edward!
His eyes opened.
Edward Abbott!
Did you really believe you could do such a thing? You possess neither the brilliance nor the courage to attain such a lofty goal.
You are just like your father and you always will be.
Edward nodded. “Yes, Mother.” His mother was always right. “It’s just as you say. I’m a failure, just as Father was. I’m nothing . . . no one.”
That was as it had always been and always would be.
But Edward had shown her—for his long-deceased father’s sake as well as for his own—when he’d placed that feather-soft pillow over her sleeping face.
Edward had felt that same curious anticipation as he had when he’d watched her do the same to his drunken father.
Edward smiled. He might be no one, but she was the one rotting in the ground.
Bitch.