The silence hung heavy in the study as Alice and her father looked at each other, panting.
"Was it an accident or was Mom murdered? Just like they almost murdered me a few days ago."
"Alice, your mind is reeling and your imagination is playing tricks on you."
"Dad."
"And I am not going to have any of that in my house," he said, banging his hand on the table.
"For years, I have ignored every struggle you put up with your stepmother and your stepsister. You have pulled every trick in the book to make their life miserable and I have kept quiet about that, thinking it was just a phase and you were going to pass through because it was just typical childhood jealousy," he continued.
"Dad…"
"I have had enough of your childish antics. I was there the day your mother died. I watched as she wanted to come down the area only to stumble, breaking her neck. I was there." His shoulders slumped as he looked at Alice, pain in his voice.
"Were you really there, Dad?"
