Silence.
The answer was in the silence.
When my mother spoke again, her voice had changed. The softness was gone.
“Give the envelope back to Richard. Tell him I will speak to him tomorrow.”
“No.”
The word came out before I had time to fear it.
Richard looked at me. So did Evelyn.
On the other end of the call, my mother seemed to stop breathing.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Claire—”
“I’m keeping a copy. And tomorrow I’m speaking to an attorney.”
The word attorney felt strange in my mouth. Heavy. Adult. Unavoidable.
My mother’s voice dropped low.
“You have no idea what you might destroy.”
I tightened my fingers around the phone.
“I’m starting to think that’s the first honest thing you’ve said tonight.”
Before she could answer, I ended the call.
For a moment, no one moved.
The room felt impossibly quiet after her voice disappeared. The rain, the low hum of hospital equipment, Noah’s soft breathing—everything ordinary returned slowly, as if the world had been holding its breath with me.
