"I paid you!" Troy's voice thundered.
"Yes, you did," she shot back, her chin lifting in defiance. "But no sum of money can pay for what you stole from me—for missing my son, our son."
Troy froze. "What are you saying?"
"We shared a bed once," Anna spat, her tone thick with accusation. "You were drunk. You might not remember, but I do."
His lip curled. "And you never told me before?"
"You never asked," she said coldly. "You switched my living son with your dead daughter. Do you have any idea what that did to me? I hardly had time to think, and while I bled and wept, you robbed me of my child."
"For the record, you sold your son to me," Troy reminded.
Troy's sneer deepened. "What if Terry returns to you? Would you finally stop wailing like a beggar?"
"Terry is not a garment you can throw away when you tire of it!" Anna's voice rose, raw and hoarse. "He is flesh, blood, and soul. He deserves more than to be used like one of your possessions."
