Not mourning.
Performing.
Her mascara had been arranged into two flawless black streams down her cheeks. Daniel stood behind her looking pale and hollow, gripping the bed rail like it was the only thing holding him upright.
“Oh, Evelyn,” Vanessa whispered dramatically, squeezing my hand between hers. “We almost lost you.”
I stared at her fingers.
Three weeks earlier, those same fingers had worn my sapphire ring. She claimed Daniel gifted it to her for their anniversary.
Daniel never knew the ring had been locked inside my private safe.
“How touching,” I rasped weakly.
Vanessa blinked. “You need rest.”
“I heard that.”
She froze for half a second. Most people would have missed it.
Daniel did not.
“Heard what, Mom?”
I slowly looked toward him. “Machines. Voices. Heaven refusing to take me.”
Vanessa laughed too quickly. “Still making jokes. That’s our Evelyn.”
Our Evelyn.
As if I belonged to them.
The following week, they moved into my house “to help.” Vanessa fired my housekeeper of twenty-two years. She replaced my nurse with one she personally selected. She told visitors I was confused. She told board members my recovery was unstable. She informed my attorney, Malcolm Reed, that I was “emotionally fragile” and should not be disturbed.
Unfortunately for Vanessa, Malcolm had known me since before Daniel lost his baby teeth.
He came anyway.
Vanessa tried stopping him in the foyer. I heard her through the bedroom door.
