And, Beatrice met her gaze, for a few seconds at least. There wasn’t much to say. ‘I’m sorry I killed your daughter’. ‘Be happy I didn’t t...rture her’. ‘Be especially happy I didn’t let Jack torture her’. ‘I hate you for defending your psychopath offspring’. ‘I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through’. It’d have all been empty words. There was no way anything Triss said could have come across as anything other than insulting, pandering, bullshit.The best she could manage, was a few seconds. When itwas my turn to order, she looked at Denise and asked, "And what wouldyour daughter like this morning?" When Denise saw my reaction, and anticipated an outburst, she jumped inand replied, "I'm sorry, but she's not my daughter." Denise gave me agentle kick in the shin, and a glare as if to say "don't say a word!"Then she turned to the waitress and explained, "This is my niece,Danielle." I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut, but I was fuming. The waitress made it a point to. More

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