My mother was the first to recover.

They always are.

“Damian — oh, thank God you’re home, but sweetheart, this isn’t what it looks like.” The words came fast and smooth, a story she’d clearly told herself so many times she half believed it.

Phedra, she said, had become impossible after she got sick — demanding, ungrateful, always wanting money, breaking things around the house on purpose, even stealing.

Even stealing jewelry.