I watched my husband fasten my necklace around my sister’s throat.
Something hotter than fear moved through me.
Rage.
Sabine touched the pendant nervously.
“What if someone asks?”
Preston lowered his voice.
“No one is going to ask anything.
The death certificate is already filed.”
My blood turned cold.
“The insurance company?”
Sabine whispered.
“As soon as I submit the certificate, the five hundred thousand gets processed.”
Five hundred thousand dollars.
I remembered the policy.
Preston had insisted on increasing our life insurance eight months earlier.
“Responsible married people plan,” he had said.
I had signed without reading every page.
Stupid.
Trusting.
Married.
Sabine glanced toward the coffin.
“What about the house?”
“Once probate recognizes me as surviving spouse, we move fast.”
My breath caught.
Then Sabine said the sentence that killed the last part of me that still wanted to believe there had been some terrible misunderstanding.
“I was afraid she would notice the taste yesterday.”
