"Your whole family is fucked, Fenella."
The manila folder hit the tabletop like a punctuation mark.
"Like one big circus."
Danny Victor leaned back in his chair, mug of steaming coffee cupped in hand. Hours he'd spent on the phone over the last week shaking down authorities for records, seeking old newspaper articles, and connecting with journalists active at the time until something of a cohesive summary of just how fucked @sacredrots's family was could be compiled into the folder sitting between them now. The indigo shadows carved under his eyes were easily chalked up to the amount of work he'd done. ( And absolutely nothing else, of course. ) What was sleep for a journalist? It was as elusive as the answers one sought.
"You're embroiled in a deep web," he continued post-sip of scalding caffeine. "You sure both of your parents are guilty? We can't spin it that one was manipulated by the other? Paint some redemption arc for them that could transfer to you."













