She wasn’t sorry. She was wiping the spot where I had sat with a cocktail napkin.

“We only invited you out of courtesy, Margaret,” she sneered, looking down at me. “Because Richard felt guilty. But honestly? You don’t fit. Don’t stay long—and don’t make things awkward.”

Richard reached down to help me, but Bella slapped his hand away. “She can get up herself. She’s not an invalid.”

I slowly pushed myself up. The pain in my hip was sharp, but the coldness in my chest was numbing.

I stood. I smoothed my skirt. I looked at Richard, who was looking at the floor, too cowardly to meet my eyes. Then I looked at Bella.

I smiled.

It wasn’t a nice smile. It was the smile a demolition expert gives before pressing the plunger.

“Enjoy it while you can, Bella,” I said softly.

“Enjoy what?” she scoffed. “My house? My life?”

“Nothing stays yours forever,” I whispered. “Especially when you haven’t paid for it.”

Bella laughed. A high, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. “Oh, poor Margaret. Jealousy is such an ugly look on you. Go home to your cats.”

I turned and walked out. I didn’t limp, even though it hurt. I walked out the massive glass front door, got into my 2015 Subaru, and drove away.

I didn’t go home to my cats.

I went to my office.