“I have to go,” I said.
“Wait.” Diane reached across and touched my wrist.
Not grabbing.
Just stopping.
“If you confront her tonight, she’ll deny it.
And that document you signed — the altered one — it’s already been filed.
You need someone in your corner before you walk back into that house.”
I looked down at her hand on my wrist.
Then at my own stomach.
“She’s my sister,” I said.
The words came out strange.
Like I was testing whether they still meant anything.
Diane didn’t answer that.
She just left her card on top of the folder and said, “Call me before you do anything.
Please.”
I walked out into the cold.
The folder was in my hand.
I hadn’t decided to take it.
It was just there.
I sat in my car again, in the same spot, looking at the same yellow curtains.
And I finally understood what Penelope had meant on the phone.
