“Another lie?” Thomas asked.
“A warning.”
Evelyn’s voice rose from the wheelchair.
“Let them open it.”
Lenora looked at her daughter.
Something passed between them—years of control, dependence, bitterness, and love twisted beyond recognition.
“I protected you,” Lenora said.
“You imprisoned me.”
“I gave you everything.”
“You took my child.”
Lenora’s face trembled.
Only then did I understand that she genuinely believed her actions had been love. Not healthy love. Not generous love. A possessive love that treated people as property and obedience as gratitude.
She had not thought herself cruel.
She had thought herself entitled.
Sirens sounded beyond the gates.
Lenora glanced toward the windows.
“The p/o/lice will not believe the confused memories of a sick woman.”
Daniel held up the tablet.
“They may believe your recorded confession.”
“I confessed to nothing.”
“You admitted taking Evelyn, hiding Claire’s identity, and pursuing the Bennett land.”
