Chapter 4

I spent the rest of the day in a surprisingly good mood. I made a small bed for the kitten out of a cardboard box and an old sweater. I named him Ash.

He was a spark of life in the suffocating emptiness of the house.

The next morning, I woke up and Ash was gone. I searched the entire house, calling his name, but the little box bed was empty.

Chloe offered to put up flyers in the neighborhood.

"No," I said, a strange calmness settling over me. "It's okay. He was a stray. Maybe he just wanted to be free. You can't force something to stay if it wants to leave."

The words tasted like ash in my mouth, but I knew they were true.

I took a nap that afternoon, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days. I was woken by the sound of shouting from downstairs.

It was Sophie. She was hysterical.

Chloe met me at the bottom of the stairs, her face grim. "It's her cat. A prize-winning Persian named Snowball. It's dead."

I sighed. "And let me guess, she thinks my little stray did it."

It was worse than that.

She wasn't just accusing Ash. She was accusing me.

I walked into the living room. Sophie was sobbing in Daniel's arms, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She poisoned him! I know she did! She was always jealous of Snowball!"

I felt a weary sense of deja vu. Of course. This was just another act in her twisted play.

"Sophie, that's a ridiculous accusation," I said, my voice steady.

"They found him in my garden," she wailed. "And look!" She held up a small plastic bag. Inside was a scrap of fabric, a piece of a silk scarf Daniel had given me for my birthday. "This was clutched in his paw!"

I looked from the scrap of fabric to her tear-streaked, triumphant face. It was a setup. A clumsy, theatrical, but potentially devastating setup.

I knew I needed to prove my innocence, not just for me, but to expose her for the manipulator she was.

"Where is the cat, Sophie?" I asked, my voice cold as ice. "I want a vet to perform a necropsy. A real one."