Too quickly.
She knelt beside Julian.
“Sweetheart, sometimes when something scary happens, our brains put different memories together.”
I heard Dr.
Benson’s voice in my head.
Someone rehearsed your murder.
I wanted to believe my mother.
So badly that I hated myself for the doubt.
My mother had pulled me from the coffin.
She had risked everything.
She had hidden me.
Protected me.
Recorded Preston.
Saved my life.
Hadn’t she?
That evening, after Julian left, I asked her again.
“Did you give Sabine anything?”
“No.”
“Think.”
“I don’t need to think.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I did not help anyone poison my daughter.”
I flinched.
She softened instantly.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She reached for me.
I stepped backward.
Her hand remained suspended between us.
For the first time since my funeral, I saw pain in my mother’s face that I did not automatically trust.
5. I BROKE INTO MY OWN HOUSE
Five nights later, Preston attended a charity dinner thirty miles away.
Sabine went with him.
Quade confirmed it.
My mother thought I was at the cottage asleep.
