Irene grabbed her discarded file. She opened it and looked at the top page. All the information in this file was already locked in her brain. She closed the folder and set it back on the table. Pulling her device from her pocket, she said, “Begin recording,” and placed it on top of the file. “Tell me, Annette, about the circumstances surrounding your daughter’s conception.”
Annette looked up at Irene and raised a brow. “You already know all the details of how I got pregnant.”
“I know, I know. But could you just repeat it for the record?” Irene asked, motioning to her device.
“Cut the crap, Irene. What’s going on?”
Irene sighed. She picked up her device, pressed her thumb on the screen to stop the recording, and shoved it back in her pocket. Placing a hand on the file, she took a deep breath. “Ophelia’s father is dead. He died six years ago.”
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