Her voice trembled.

“Can we… not go home right now?”

The question made no sense. Sophie loved staying with us. My daughter, Catherine, had left her with us while handling a crisis at the hospital. Everything had seemed normal.

Until now.

“Why?” I asked gently.

She swallowed hard.

“I heard Grandma talking last night,” she whispered.

A cold feeling slid through my chest.

“Talking to who?”

“On the phone. After you went to bed.”

I tried to dismiss it—Margaret often talked late. But Sophie’s expression stopped me.

“What did she say?”

Sophie hesitated, like she knew saying it out loud would break something.

“She was talking about money,” she said softly. “A lot of money.”

My stomach tightened.

Then came the sentence that changed everything.

“She said… ‘Once he’s gone, everything will be mine.’”

I stopped breathing.

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears.

“And she said she’d make it look natural. That no one would suspect anything.”

My hands tightened around the steering wheel.