the signed divorce agreement into a safe deposit box. The cool, heavy metal door swinging shut felt like the cl

lready felt alien, stripped of her presence. The air was thick with the cloying scen

the few personal trinkets she'd allowed herself. She wo

lly broke. Inside was a small, velvet-lined box. She lifted the

. The only tangible piece of the

, ragged sob tore from her throat. It was the first time she had cried i

once more. She carefully placed the urn inside her carry-o

a appeared, her eyes red and swollen. "Mrs. Underwood..

t's alright, Martha. I'll just be in the gues

You will always be the la

nt door. Candyce Smith swept in, followed by a sm

eyes sweeping over the grand foyer with a greedy, possessive light. Sh

her's legs, peering out a

ide and casually taking her handbag, a gesture of domestic intim

staircase, her few boxes at her f

on a blank mask. She headed toward the guest wing, th

berately loud. "This decor is so dated. We shoul

ane's noncom

lynn's seat at the head of the table, opposite Dane. She preened and c

nd then frowned. He dropped his fork and knife onto h

g at the food. "Martha, the chef is

she had hired to prepare meals for her mother's delicate health during her visits.

ned on her own fork,

ed in immediately. "The food is so

d down at her plate, which was nearly empty.

ing look. Dottie immediately fel

oment, a strange pang of pity for the child cut through

and stood up. "I've had enough,"

out of the dining ro