[ Bree is honestly stunned, listening as her heart sinks further into her stomach. She isn't sure what to focus on first: the fact that her infant sister was stillborn, that her mother nearly died, or that Jamie was in a French prison.

A lot of things make sense now; the way her mother always fussed over her.

The way her father told her the first words he heard her speak after delivery were in question over whether or not Bree was alive. How he said she used to count fingers and toes, and make sure every part of her was still perfect after every bath. She has a very, very vague memory of her mother sitting by her bedside when she was sick with something, never leaving even though it was probably only a cold.

Was that why? Was she always afraid she might lose another daughter? ]

I'm not upset for her.

[ Bree's surprised to find tears clouding her vision and blinks slightly, pushing them back. ]

I'm sorry you both had to go through that. I understand. Why she never said anything.

[ Wetting her lips, she wonders if she should let this go, not keep asking questions of Jamie after all of that, but she can't help it. ]

Did it help? To try and kill Jack Randall?