“See?” David asked with a cruel, shark-like grin. “You have no witnesses. Har
I’ll have you locked up, Anna.
I’ll say you’re mentally unstable. Postpartum psychosis before you’re even born.
I’ll lock you up in a prison where no one will hear you scream. You’ll never beat me. I know the bylaws. I know the loopholes.
I looked at him. I really looked at him. I saw the cheap suit. The desperate ambition. The smallness of his soul.
“You’re right, David,” I said. My voice was calm, but it wasn’t shaking. “You know the bylaws.”
I sat up, leaning against the cabinets.
“But you don’t know who wrote them.”
