When I get there, I take a seat on a chaise by the window and spend a few minutes answering emails on my phone. Then the puzzle of Nora’s uncharacteristic distance creeps into my mind again. The way she’s been these past couple of weeks reminds me of when I first forced the trackers on her. It’s as if she’s upset with me—except this time, I have no idea why.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realize that it’s already been a half hour since I left the table. Hopefully, Nora’s already gone upstairs. When I check her location, however, I see she’s still in the dining room.

Mildly annoyed, I contemplate getting a book to read while I wait, but then I get a better idea.

Pulling up a different app on my phone, I activate the hidden audio feed from the dining room, put on my Bluetooth headset, and lean back in the chaise to listen.

A second later, Gabriela’s frustrated voice fills my ears.

“—people died,” she argues. “How can that not bother you? There were police officers among those criminals, good men who were just following  orders—”

“And they would’ve killed us by following those orders.” Nora’s tone is unusually sharp, causing me to sit up and listen more intently. “Is it better to die by the bullet of a good man than to defend yourself and live? I’m sorry that I’m not showing the remorse you expect, Mom, but I’m not sorry that all of us are alive and well. It’s not Julian’s fault that any of that happened. If anything—”

“He’s the one who killed that gangster’s son,” Tony interrupts. “If he’d done the civilized thing, called nine-one-one instead of resorting to murder—”

“If he’d done the civilized thing, I would’ve been raped and Rosa would’ve suffered even more before the police got there.” There is a hard, brittle note in Nora’s voice. “You weren’t there, Dad. You don’t understand.”

“Your dad understands perfectly well, honey.” Gabriela’s voice is calmer now, edged with weariness. “And yes, maybe your husband couldn’t stand by and wait for the cops to arrive, but you know as well as I do that he could’ve abstained from killing that man.”

Abstained from killing the man who hurt and nearly raped Nora? My blood boils with sudden fury. The fucking bastard’s lucky I didn’t castrate him and stuff his balls into his bowels. The only reason he died so easily was because Nora was there, and my worry for her was greater than my rage.

“Maybe he could’ve.” Nora’s tone matches her mother’s. “But there’s every reason to believe the Sullivans would’ve walked free, given their connections. Is that what you want, Mom, for men like that to continue doing this to other women?”

“No, of course not,” Tony says. “But that doesn’t give Julian the right to set himself up as judge, jury, and executioner. When he killed that man, he didn’t know who he was, so you can’t use that excuse. Your husband killed because he wanted to and for no other reason.”

For a few tense seconds, there’s silence in my headset. The fury inside me grows, the anger coiling and tightening as I wait to hear what Nora has to say. I don’t give a fuck what Nora’s parents think about me, but I very much care that they’re trying to turn their daughter against me.

Finally, Nora speaks. “Yes, Dad, you’re right, he did.” Her voice is calm and steady. “He killed that man for hurting me without giving it a second thought. Do you want me to condemn him for that? Well, I can’t. I won’t. Because if I could’ve, I would’ve done the same thing.”

Another prolonged silence. Then: “Honey, when you left the plane and there were all those gunshots, was that you?” Gabriela asks quietly. “Did you shoot anyone?” A short pause, then an even softer, “Did you kill anyone?”

“Yes.” Nora’s tone doesn’t change. I can picture her sitting there, facing her parents without flinching. “Yes, Mom, I did.”

A sharply indrawn breath, then another few beats of silence.

“I told you, Gabs.” It’s Tony who speaks now, his voice weighed down by sadness. “I told you she must’ve. Our daughter’s changed—he’s changed her.”

There’s a scraping noise, like that of a chair moving across the floor, and then a shaky, “Oh, honey.” It’s followed by a choked sob and Nora’s voice murmuring, “Don’t cry, Mom. Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. I’m so sorry . . .”

I can’t bear to listen anymore. Jumping off the chaise, I stride out of the library, determined to collect Nora and bring her upstairs. This guilt-tripping is the last thing she needs, and if I have to protect her from her own parents, so be it.

As I walk, I hear them speak again, and I slow down in the hallway, listening despite myself.

“You didn’t disappoint us, honey,” Nora’s father says thickly. “It’s not that, not at all. It’s just that we see now that you’re no longer the same girl . . . that even if you came back to us, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“No, Dad,” Nora replies quietly. “It wouldn’t be.”

A couple more seconds pass, and then her mother speaks again. “We love you, honey,” she says in a low, strained voice. “Please, don’t ever doubt that we love you.”

“I know, Mom. And I love you, both of you.” Nora’s voice cracks for the first time. “I’m sorry that things have worked out this way, but I belong here now.”