“Isabella,” Dad rasped weakly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Marcus laughed. “Even broken, the old man knows you can’t save him.”
Vivian crossed the room and air-kissed beside my cheek. Her perfume smelled expensive and rotten at the same time.
“Your father signed everything over,” she purred. “The house. His shares. The accounts. He finally realized who truly takes care of him.”
My father looked at me, shame drowning his eyes.
I slowly placed my suitcase down.
“Did he?” I asked quietly.
Vivian’s smile sharpened. “Careful, sweetheart.”
“Or did you force him to sign while he was sedated?”
The silence that followed cracked through the room.
