“You were there?” Sophie whispered.
“Third row.
Same as today.”
Sophie’s phone buzzed.
She looked at it.
Her face went white.
“It’s Grandma.”
“Answer it.”
Sophie put the phone on speaker.
Margaret’s voice filled the kitchen — sharp, controlled, the same voice Clara had heard for thirty years.
“Sophie, where are you?
I told you not to go.”
“I’m at Mom’s.”
Silence on the line.
Then: “Why?”
“Because I found out what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything.
Your mother is a liar, Sophie.
She always has been.
She’s manipulating you right now —”
“She showed me the letter, Grandma.
The one you wrote her.
The one where you told her she’d ruin my life.”
