“You unhooked the oxygen intake valve, Mom.”

“I touched a loose piece of plastic,” my mother said, sighing heavily before taking a sudden step toward me.

“You’ve always been completely dramatic, Claire.”

The second guard moved his body between us and held up one flat, black-gloved palm.

My mother glared at his arm and twisted her wedding ring around her finger.

“You’re just looking for another reason to make a giant scene,” my mother said, her voice dropping into that familiar, bitter tone.

“You couldn’t handle the fact that Melissa had thirty people coming to her house on Sunday, so you made up a brand-new tragedy.”