At sixty-three, I believed I had already faced every kind of fear life could offer.

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears.

“And she said she’d make it look natural. That no one would suspect anything.”

My hands tightened around the steering wheel.

I wanted to tell myself she misunderstood. That it was a joke. That Margaret would never—

But then Sophie whispered the final piece:

“She called you… the old fool.”

And she laughed.

A horrible laugh.

In that moment, denial began to crack.

Because suddenly, things I had ignored started lining up.