Chapter 1 - What Did You Do to Her?
Vanessa shoved Evelyn into the orchid pot because the old woman reached for her phone.
The ceramic shattered across the marble foyer.
White orchid petals scattered over the floor like pieces of a ruined apology.
Evelyn hit the edge of the pot shoulder-first, lost her balance, and fell hard onto one hip.
The impact stole her breath.
She lay there in her lavender lace dress, pearl earrings trembling, one fragile hand pressed against the marble, trying to make her body obey her again.
At seventy-one, after a stroke that had left her weaker on one side, falling was not just painful.
It was terrifying.
Vanessa stood over her in a fitted red evening dress and heels, blonde hair smooth, face cold.
“No one is coming to save you,” she said.
Evelyn tried to pull herself up with one hand.
Her phone was still on the side table.
So close.
Vanessa stepped over the broken flowers, grabbed Evelyn by the shoulder, and forced her back down toward the floor.
Evelyn cried out.
Not loudly.
She did not have the strength.
“You said I could call Daniel,” she gasped.
Vanessa snatched the phone from the table.
Her smile was polished enough for charity galas and sharp enough for cruelty.
“Daniel has more important things than you.”
Then the camera of real life turned toward the open front door.
A black suitcase appeared first.
Then Daniel.
He stepped into the grand mansion foyer in a navy suit, white shirt open at the collar, dark hair wind-tossed from travel. He was supposed to be in London for three more days.
He froze.
His eyes moved from the shattered orchid pot to his mother on the floor.
Then to Vanessa holding Evelyn’s phone.
His suitcase dropped heavily onto the marble.
“What did you do to her?”
Vanessa released Evelyn so quickly it looked like innocence arriving late.
She forced a frightened smile and stepped toward Daniel, trying to block his view of the side table.
“She fell.”
Daniel did not answer.
His eyes moved past Vanessa.
On the side table, partly hidden beneath her purse, was a company folder.
One page had slipped out.
At the bottom was a signature.
May you like
His signature.
Or something close enough to make his stomach turn cold.
