After that, I dialed the personal number of Detective Kimberly Soto, an old colleague from my years at the state bureau.

Kimberly owed me no favors at all, but she was someone who trusted my professional judgment without question.

Before she could even reach the restaurant, my phone buzzed on the table.

Sylvia had sent a message: “Did you finish your drink, Mother?”

A second one flashed up seconds later: “Please answer, we’re genuinely worried about you.”

I stared at the glowing words until they blurred, the weight of the betrayal pressing down on me.

I typed back: “It was delicious, and I’m feeling quite sleepy already.”

Three dots appeared right away—she was typing.

Sylvia replied: “Good. Go home and rest now. We’ll handle everything for you in the morning.”

I locked my phone and set it face down on the table, a cold resolve settling into my chest.

Elias whispered, “What do you think they’re planning to do to you?”

I looked out at the rain streaking the windowpane and thought about the power of attorney papers Jason had pushed across my breakfast table that very morning.

“They think tomorrow morning belongs to them,” I said, my voice cutting through the low hum of the restaurant.

“Let’s make sure it doesn’t,” I said.

“And let’s make sure they never forget what they tried to do tonight.”