As we got closer to home, Dylan pleaded. “Grandma, please don’t tell my mom I told you this. She’s going to hate me.”

“I promise, honey,” I said, forcing a reassuring smile. But as I got out of the car, I saw Evelyn at the door, her arms crossed, her scrutinizing gaze on us. He hid behind me.

Evelyn smiled coldly, her voice sweet but icy. “Did you come to drop off Dylan, Mom? It’s very late. Was there a lot of traffic?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, a little traffic.” We went inside quickly, our hearts uneasy. I knew she was suspicious. Deep down, fear was consuming me. I was just an old woman with trembling hands and a heart full of scars. Would I have enough strength to face what was coming?