They had spent the whole summer acting careful. My mother clipped coupons in front of me and sighed over grocery prices. My father shook his head when I suggested one quiet weekend away together, like I had asked him to buy a second house instead of share a motel room and a diner breakfast. “This summer we’re staying in,” Mom told me. “It’s just too much.” I believed her because believing them had become a reflex, even after years of little disappointments. They knew I kept one reserve account for emergencies, and they knew my health was the reason I guarded it like oxygen. At 3:08 in the morning, my phone buzzed hard enough to wake me. The notification said $9,860 had been withdrawn from my reserve fund. I sat up so fast the room tilted, opened the banking app, and watched my own life turn into someone else’s vacation. There were first-class flights to Mykonos. There was a luxury suite, a private driver, designer shops, spa treatments, and restaurant holds that cost more than my rent. Every charge use

Audrey obeyed.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

Her fear wanted to scatter in every direction.

She forced it into one place.

Her son.

Nothing else mattered more.

As they passed the stairwell, someone pushed through the door.

Seraphina emerged, breathless.

Her gray sweatshirt was tied around her waist, and she carried a pair of white hospital slippers in one hand.

“Elena, stop,” Audrey said.

The nurses hesitated.

Seraphina hurried toward them.

“I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“What are you doing here?” Audrey asked.

“The power went out while I was downstairs.”

“Why were you downstairs?”

Seraphina looked at the nurses.

“I need to speak to Audrey alone.”

“That isn’t possible,” Elena said.

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