Then my phone vibrated during a financial review meeting.
I opened the live feed from the living room.
Marcus sat on the sofa beside Sophia.
His hand covered hers.
Her head rested against his shoulder.
They were not speaking like relatives.
“How much longer?” Sophia whispered. “I’m tired of acting.”
Marcus lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Next Tuesday,” he said. “One final dose at dinner. Afterward, everyone will believe the pressure finally killed her.”
The room around me seemed to blur.
I could still hear traffic moving near Lake Michigan below the tower. I could still see the spreadsheet glowing on my screen.
But my entire life had shifted beneath me.
Sophia laughed quietly.
“Once she’s dead, we get the hotels.”
My sister said it as casually as if she were claiming a vacation property.
Marcus showed her documents on his phone.
Forged signatures.
Altered beneficiary forms.
