three years ago—out onto the front porch. With a grunt of sheer, malicious effort, she heaved it down the stone steps.
The cheap zipper, strained by the impact, burst open. My modest clothes, my nursing scrubs, and my few personal belongings scattered across the pristine, waterlogged lawn, instantly soaking up the dark, churning mud.
“You got the lavish wedding you always wanted, you little gold-digger,” Eleanor hissed, descending the steps, her face contorted with a hatred she had barely bothered to conceal while Terrence was alive. “You got to play princess in our house for three years. But the ride is over. Now that Terrence is gone, you get nothing. Get the hell out of my sight, you parasite!”
A few steps away, standing safely under the massive awning of the porch, was Chloe, Terrence’s younger sister. She was holding her latest iPhone, the camera lens pointed directly at my
