Xavier exhaled slowly. Then, with chilling certainty, he said, "What if the person who murdered Arabella… was our father?"
The world seemed to be still.
Xander's fingers curled into the sheets, his knuckles turning white. He could hear the steady beeping of the hospital monitors, but everything else felt distant—like he was underwater, drowning in the weight of Xavier's words.
His throat felt tight, his breath uneven, but his glare was sharp. "What nonsense are you talking about?" His voice came out sharper than he intended. "Is this some kind of pathetic trick? Another attempt to manipulate me into believing you're innocent?"
"I never touched her when I saw her dead," said Xavier, and Xander scoffed. "Not once."
Xander scoffed, shaking his head. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Xavier leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze unwavering. "There was a witness that saw everything the night Arabella was killed."
