If she bought something for herself, Rebecca would comment, “Well, good thing you can still afford little things, because expenses here are getting brutal.”

The sentence that finally broke something inside Margaret came six months earlier. Rebecca was on the patio, speaking on the phone, convinced no one could hear her.

“We can’t ask her to leave. She watches the kids, pays for things, and still buys groceries. It isn’t really her. It’s her money that’s saving us.”

Margaret had said nothing then. She folded that pain into her chest like a needle hidden inside clothing.

But that morning, with the house empty and the note on the table, she finally understood everything. They had not brought her to live with them out of love.

They had placed her there because she was useful.