Chapter 1
The tray slipped from her shaking hands and landed hard on a chair.
“Mrs. Ava!”
Margaret’s face snapped toward her.
That was her mistake.
For one second, the cup moved away from Ava’s mouth.
Rosa ran.
She crossed the office like fear had finally turned into courage and knocked Margaret’s wrist aside.
The cup hit the wood floor.
Liquid spread under the desk.
Away from Ava.
Away from her lips.
Ava gasped and turned her face away, still dry-mouthed, still conscious, still refusing.
Margaret released her hair.
“You stupid woman,” she hissed.
Rosa stepped in front of Ava.
“She said no.”
The room froze around that sentence.
Because no one had said Ava’s no mattered in weeks.
Not since the accident.
Not since Margaret began telling doctors Ava was confused.
Not since Daniel left for his business trip and Margaret started speaking for the house.
Margaret lifted her hand and slapped Rosa across the face.
The sound cracked through the office.
Rosa staggered half a step but stayed standing.
Ava saw the red mark bloom on the woman who had brought her soup, washed her hair, and whispered, “Blink twice if you want me to stay.”
Something broke loose inside Ava.
She leaned forward from the wheelchair and grabbed Margaret’s wrist with both hands.
Weak hands.
Trembling hands.
But they held.
Margaret looked down in disbelief.
“You filthy maid,” she snapped at Rosa.
Ava’s voice came out thin.
But clear.
“Don’t hurt her.”
Margaret stared at her.
For the first time that night, the helpless woman in the chair did not look helpless.
She looked like a witness.
And witnesses were dangerous.
Margaret’s eyes flicked to the desk again.
The unsigned papers.
The open pen.
The family trust folder.
May you like
The lipstick-marked envelope.
Ava followed her glance.
