And there she stood.
Perfect hair. Cream sweater. Gold earrings catching the light. One hand resting on the railing as if she owned every inch of the place.
She loved that pose.
I had seen it at charity events, family holidays, fundraisers—anywhere she needed to look like she belonged at the center of everything. As if she hadn’t married into this life with ambition sharp enough to cut through anyone in her way.
But that morning, something changed.
The second truck pulled into the driveway behind me.
The man who stepped out wore a navy jacket with Donnelly Lock & Key stitched across his chest. Clipboard in hand, he looked toward the porch—
And that’s when Diana realized.
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