Chapter 2

Those seven words detonated something in the room.

Liam lunged forward and knocked me to the ground.

Aunt Patricia grabbed a broom from the corner and came at me with it, striking me across the back.

"You ungrateful little — after everything she's done for you!"

"Today I'm doing what your father would have done if he were still here!"

The broom came down again and again. My back burned.

Grace watched from a few feet away, arms still folded, and turned to Mom with a bitter smile.

"See that? That's what you raised, Mom."

"I genuinely don't understand you. How can you be so blind? Am I not your daughter? Is Liam not your son? Why does every good thing in this family go to her, and we're invisible?"

Mom shoved herself upright and pushed Grace aside, her face set.

"Back off. Your sister is being attacked and you're standing there making comments?"

She pushed past everyone and threw herself over me, arms outstretched.

"Stop! Stop it!"

"My baby — my baby…"

Aunt Patricia froze mid-swing and let the broom drop to the floor.

"What are you doing? I was trying to help you! If she were my daughter, I would've done a lot worse!"

Mom held me against her chest, crying, rubbing my back. "Are you hurt, sweetheart… let me see…"

I sucked in a sharp breath and shoved her away. She went down hard.

"Get off me. You miserable old woman. What's taking you so long to die? Don't act like you care about me."

"You—!" Liam went ballistic, trying to get to me, but Mom grabbed his leg and held on.

"Son." She was sobbing. "Don't hurt her. She's my heart. She's my heart…"

I pulled myself to my feet, scanning the room.

"What is this?" I said. "What are all of you doing?"

I turned to Mom. "Your performance is impressive. I mean it. Academy Award level."

Then I looked at my brother. "And you, Liam. Between the two of us — who's really playing the victim here?"

"You've all been at this long enough. Don't start believing your own act."

I looked straight at him. "Of everyone who's ever come at me, you're the last person who gets to."

Liam went still. Then his face darkened.

"What does that mean? Mom just gave you her entire life savings and you treat her like this. Am I wrong about you?"

"You know exactly why I'm acting this way," I said. "You just don't want to admit it."

He hesitated. Something flickered in his expression.

"Quinn. What are you saying?"

I smiled, reached over, and took the bank card from Mom's hand. I pressed it into Liam's palm.

"You're the man of the family, right? Mom said she wanted me to have this. But I'm just her daughter — I shouldn't be the one making these decisions."

"So why don't you handle it? Right here, in front of everyone. Split the money three ways between the siblings. Fair and square."

Liam stood holding the card, his face cycling through shades of pale and red.

Grace stirred. Her eyes locked onto the card with barely disguised hunger, though her voice came out slow and casual.

"He's right, Liam. If Quinn's offering, then let's divide it properly."

"We've got the whole family here as witnesses. Better to settle it now, so there's no confusion later."

Mom sank back against the pillow, weeping softly.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault… I haven't left enough for my children. And now I'm watching you all turn against each other…"

Uncle Robert, who hadn't said a word this whole time, finally had enough. He drove his cane against the floor with a crack.

"Enough. All of you."

"Your mother is still alive. She's right there in that bed. And you're already negotiating her estate?"