Oliver's chest tightened. Her cold and detached words hit him harder than screams ever could. If she had yelled at him, cursed him, or called him a monster, he might have found some way to take it. But this emptiness, devoid of emotions, tore through him.
"I'm sorry," he said again, barely able to breathe. "Please... if you can, forgive me."
Anne didn't flinch. Her expression didn't change. Her voice stayed steady.
"You are guilty. You wronged me, yes…But you hurt my mother far worse. You shattered her trust. You ripped her world apart. You took her child away and left her to suffer alone. And when she was lost in her pain, drowning in depression, you didn't even look back."
She turned her gaze to Margaret for a moment, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before she looked back at Oliver.
