Chapter 4

The silence in the apartment was heavier than the cold, pressing against my chest long after the door had clicked shut behind him.

My phone screen illuminated the dark room. It was my wallpaper-a photo of my mother and me, beaming in front of the sustainable housing complex I had designed for my senior thesis. She looked so vibrant then, her eyes full of a light that had since been extinguished.

I forced myself to stand, grabbing my coat against the chill that came from within, and headed back to the hospital.

The room smelled of antiseptic, stale air, and dying flowers.

My mother was still. Too still.

I took her hand in mine. It felt fragile, like dry paper.

"He is gone, Mom," I whispered, my thumb brushing her knuckles. "Though I suppose he never really stayed to begin with."

I checked the time on my phone.

I typed a message to Alex.

"Plan is on. Three days."

The reply was instantaneous. "I am ready. Stay safe."

I spent the next forty-eight hours moving like a ghost haunting my own life. I drifted from the sterile silence of the hospital to the clatter of my shift at the diner, and then back to the empty apartment.

Garrison didn't call.

But I saw him.

He was everywhere-splashed across every newsstand I passed, flickering on the TV screens mounted in the corners of the diner.

"Garrison Gardner and Kayla Bennett: The Power Couple of the Year?"

The paparazzi photos showed them at a charity gala. He was leaning in, whispering something into her ear. She was throwing her head back in laughter, her hand resting possessively on his chest.

He looked happy.

On the third day, I was sitting by my mother's bedside when the door swung open.

It wasn't a doctor.

It was Garrison's parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardner swept into the room, looking violently out of place amidst the sterile beige and blinking monitors, draped in cashmere coats and clutching designer leather bags.

"Janet," Mrs. Gardner said coolly. She didn't even glance at my mother. "We need to talk."

"Here?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"It is a family matter," Mr. Gardner stated stiffly, his tone brokering no argument. "We didn't want to handle this over the phone."

He placed a sleek folder on the bedside table, dangerously close to my mother's breathing tube.

"We are restructuring the firm's shares before the merger," he explained, adjusting his cufflinks. "For tax purposes, of course."

I opened the folder.

It was a transfer agreement.

It authorized the transfer of my fifteen percent stake-the stake I had bought with every cent of my father's life insurance money to help Garrison launch the firm-back to the Gardner family trust.

For zero dollars.

"You want me to sign away my shares?" I asked, staring at the legal jargon.

"It is for the family, dear," Mrs. Gardner said, her smile tight and devoid of warmth. "You are still part of the family, aren't you? It is just paperwork. Garrison needs full control to finalize the deal with the European investors."

"Where is Garrison?" I asked, closing the folder.

The door opened again.

Garrison walked in. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to meet my eyes.

Kayla was with him.

She had a fresh bandage wrapped around her wrist. She clung to his arm like a vine choking a tree.

"Janet," Garrison said. His voice was tight, strained.

"Is this your idea?" I held up the document.

"It is necessary," he said, finally looking at me, though his eyes were guarded. "Kayla... Kayla needs security. If the merger goes through, she will be the public face of the firm. She needs equity."

"So you are stealing mine to give to her?"

"It is not stealing," Kayla interjected, her voice raspy and theatrical. "Garrison said you don't care about business. You just want to be a housewife."

She looked at me, and for a fleeting second, the mask slipped. I saw the triumph glittering in her eyes.

"Besides," she added, gently touching her bandaged wrist. "After what happened... Garrison promised to take care of me."

"She tried to kill herself because of the stress," Mrs. Gardner snapped, glaring at me with undisguised venom. "Because you refuse to divorce Garrison and let them be happy. You are driving her to this."

I looked at them.

The parents who took my money. The husband who took my life. The woman who took my place.

A strange, icy calm settled over me, silencing the chaos in my mind.

"I will sign," I said softly.

Garrison looked up, genuine surprise breaking through his misery. "You will?"

"On one condition."

I closed the folder with a definitive snap.

"Garrison, you have to admit it."

"Admit what?" he asked, frowning.

"Admit that Kayla poisoned my mother."

The room went dead silent. The only sound was the rhythmic hiss of my mother's ventilator.

Kayla gasped, burying her face in Garrison's chest, her shoulders shaking. "She is crazy! Garrison, she is crazy!"

"That is an insane accusation!" Mr. Gardner shouted, his face reddening.

I ignored them, locking eyes with Garrison.

"I saw the toxicology report, Garrison. I know you paid the doctor to bury it. I know Kayla gave her that 'herbal tea' three months ago. Admit it. Pay for her care. And I will sign everything and disappear."

Garrison's face turned the color of ash.

He knew.

He absolutely knew.