“Your heart rate is eighty and regular,” I whispered, loud enough for Eric to hear. “Your skin color is perfect. You have no referred pain in your jaw or your left arm.

If you force Eric to call an ambulance, the paramedics will hook you up to a twelve-lead EKG, and they’ll tell him exactly what I’m telling him now — that you are completely fine.

And I’ll make sure they note in the official chart that this was a feigned medical emergency to avoid a legal eviction.”

Patricia’s fake gasping hitched. Her eyes snapped open, glaring at me with a hatred so pure it practically vibrated.

I stood, wiping my hands on my jeans as if I’d touched something filthy.

I looked at my husband. Eric was staring at his mother, the phone still clutched in his hand. He’d watched her “collapse.” And he’d just watched her miraculous recovery the second her bluff was called.