I stepped aside. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, Ms. Bennett,” the officer said. “You mentioned assistance was needed this evening.”
Jeffrey shot up from his seat. “Mom, what is this? Why is a cop here?”
I held up my hand and—very calmly—pressed a button on the voice recorder in my pocket.
A familiar voice filled the room.
Hannah’s voice. Dripping venom.
“You think you own this place, old woman? Maybe it’s time someone knocked that entitlement out of you.”
Then came the sound I’d heard every night replaying in my head since it happened:
My scream.
My fall.
My bone cracking.
Someone gasped. Someone whispered, “She pushed her…” My brother swore under his breath.
I didn’t look at Jeffrey—I watched Hannah.
Her face drained of color. She stepped back, bumping into the dining table, nearly knocking over a glass of wine.
“Sophia—Sophia, please—you misunderstood—”
