“You told yourself whatever made this easier.”
The room fell silent.
Daniel stood near the doorway, his eyes wet.
For decades, Margaret had acted like my protector.
She called me, asked whether I was lonely, and encouraged me to move closer to her.
All while hiding the fact that Daniel had repeatedly come searching for me.
I could have screamed.
I could have fought her over every dollar.
But nothing she owned could repay what she had taken.
“You can keep the house,” I said.
Margaret looked up.
“Keep the inheritance. Keep every dollar you convinced yourself was worth this.”
I reached for Daniel’s hand.
“But you cannot return fifty-five years. And I’m not giving you another day.”
Then I walked out.
Margaret did not follow.
That night, I took the ivory prom dress out of its garment bag.
For the first time in more than half a century, I did not carry it back to the attic.
