She didn't want to hear anymore. She couldn't hear anymore. It was too much. Retreating back to the bedroom she'd just exited, she laid back down on the bed. So many thoughts were running through her mind that she struggled to focus on any of them. Never once in twenty years did Antonin tell her that he was the one who was supposed to be guarding her cupboard, that he was the one who came up the with idea in the first place. How many times had she wished that the past was different? That he'd been there instead of Augustus?