Brandon's POV
The front door slammed so hard behind me that the sound echoed through the entire house.
I didn't stop walking.
If anything, my pace quickened. I stepped onto the front porch, but it did nothing to cool the fire raging inside my chest. Every breath I drew felt sharp, as though I were inhaling shards of broken glass instead of oxygen.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and marched down the stone pathway without any destination in mind.
Everything Dad had told me replayed in my head.
Your mother forged the divorce papers.
She planted the evidence.
The police released me because they couldn't find anything.
Your mother may not be coming home anytime soon...
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. I rubbed my face aggressively.
None of it made sense.
None of it.
I hated it. I hated doubting the woman who had raised me.
Most of all...
I hated myself for believing every word Dad had said.
Because a part of me believed him.
