CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 2
Grace’s wineglass hit the table with a soft click.
“Lena,” she said sharply, “hang up that phone.”
I did not look at her.
The dispatcher asked for the address.
I gave it.
Jackson’s face turned pale, then red again.
“She’s exaggerating,” he snapped loudly, like volume could change evidence. “It was an accident.”
I looked at the shattered plate.
“Then tell them that.”
His brother, Mark, shifted in his chair.
His wife stared at her lap.
Jackson’s father still had not spoken. Robert Ellis had spent forty years running a construction company and five minutes pretending he had not seen his son attack his wife.
The dispatcher asked if I was safe.
I looked around the dining room.
Twenty adults.
One injured woman.
No one had moved.
“No,” I said. “I’m not.”
Jackson lunged toward the phone.
Mark finally stood.
“Jackson, don’t.”
The room froze again.
Jackson turned on him.
“Sit down.”
Mark did not sit.
That tiny act of courage seemed to irritate Grace more than the plate had.
“This is family business,” she hissed.
I laughed once, quietly.
“Not anymore.”
The dispatcher told me officers were on the way and asked me to stay on the line.
I placed the phone on speaker beside the broken porcelain.
Grace’s voice softened instantly.
“Lena, sweetheart, you’re upset. We can discuss this like adults.”
I looked at her.
“You were discussing my home like I was already dead.”
Her mouth tightened.
Jackson pointed at me.
“You always twist everything.”
“No,” I said. “I design buildings for a living. I understand structure. And yours just collapsed.”
Sirens sounded faintly outside.
May you like
For the first time, every person at that table seemed to understand that silence had weight.
And tonight, it might bury them too.
