That Saturday morning, Richard had invited his partners for brunch at our house. It was an important event. They were going to discuss the company’s expansion, and Richard was particularly anxious to impress them. I spent the whole week preparing everything, from the menu to the smallest details of the decoration.
I was in the kitchen finishing the salad when Sarah appeared. Her face was pale, and there was something in her eyes I couldn’t immediately identify. Tension. Fear.
“Mom,” she murmured, approaching like someone trying not to draw attention. “I need to show you something in my room.”
Richard walked into the kitchen right then, adjusting his expensive tie. He always dressed impeccably, even for casual events at home. “What are you two whispering about?” he asked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Nothing important,” I replied automatically. “Sarah is just asking for help with some school stuff.”
“Well, be quick,” he said, checking his watch. “The guests arrive in thirty minutes, and I need you here to welcome them with me.”
I nodded, following my daughter down the hall. As soon as we entered her room, she shut the door quickly, almost too abruptly. “What’s wrong, honey? You’re scaring me.”
Sarah didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed a small piece of paper from her desk and put it in my hands, glancing nervously at the door. I unfolded the paper and read the hurried words: Pretend to be sick and leave. Now.
