“You wrote half of it.”
“Yes.”
His answers were quiet. Each one seemed to cost him more than the last.
Mercer extended his hand toward the paper. Khloe pulled it against her chest.
“It’s private.”
“It contains allegations about me,” I said. “Let me read it.”
She looked toward the fireplace.
Lydia stepped away from the mantel, leaving the room clear, but keeping her eyes on Khloe’s hands.
Ethan took out his phone.
“I have a copy. And the messages.”
Khloe’s mouth opened.
For the first time that evening, nothing came out.
He laid his phone on the table and scrolled until a thread appeared. He did not thrust it at me. He turned the screen toward Mercer.
“We talked about using it if Mom challenged the release. There wasn’t a doctor involved. We knew that.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I lowered myself into a chair that a guest had left crooked.
“Was that why you wanted me downstairs?”
Ethan’s eyes filled.
“We wanted you dependent on us.”
Khloe shook her head sharply.
“I wanted a workable arrangement. You said she would never notice the payments.”
“And I lied.”
“You said she wouldn’t need that money.”
“I lied about that too.”
I stared at the roses. Their stems had been trimmed to exactly the same height.
All week, I had scrubbed around those vases.
Khloe moved toward Ethan’s phone. He picked it up before she reached it.
“I’m preserving everything,” he said.
“You’ll destroy us.”
He looked at me then.
