“The life I chose?” Clay felt the unwise heat building again, making him acutely aware of the forbidden vial in his pocket. “Thought it was you chose it for me, Uncle.” The faint vestige of humour faded from Braddon’s face, resuming his unreadable frown as he turned back to his daughter. “No place in my house for a boy who kills his own father.” Auntie thinks different. Auntie thinks your brother was better off dead.
