The paperwork.”
“You mean my life.”
“No one said that.”
“You did.
You just used kinder words.”
Alex pulled out a chair.
“Mom, sit down.”
“I am not confused, and I am not incapable.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then stop speaking to me as though I need permission to stand in my own dining room.”
The building manager arrived a few minutes later.
Mr.
Alvarez had known me for twelve years.
He apologized for allowing the family upstairs, explaining that Jenna had introduced herself as my son’s fiancée and used a working key.
She had also shown the doorman a message from Alex saying I expected them.
Alex admitted sending it.
“I was trying to help,” he repeated.
Mr.
Alvarez looked around at the luggage and displaced furniture.
“Helping begins with the owner’s consent.”
He deactivated the electronic access code linked to my emergency key and told everyone they had to leave unless I gave written permission for them to remain.
Carl immediately began packing.
Lorraine emptied the pot she had been cooking and wiped down the stove.
Tyler carried suitcases toward the elevator without looking at me.
Mia stood beside the evidence bag containing Thomas’s watch.
“I really didn’t take it,” she said quietly.
“Jenna told me to move everything valuable out of the cabinet so nothing would get lost during the wedding.”
Jenna spun toward her.
“That is not what I said.”
“You said we needed photographs of everything.”
The security officer turned to Mia.
“Photographs for what purpose?”
Mia began to cry.
“For the inventory.”
No one moved.
I asked her what inventory she meant.
She looked at Alex, then at Jenna.
“The apartment inventory.
Jenna said Alex needed pictures for the bank because they might use this place as security for their new house.”
Carl swore under his breath.
Lorraine gripped the back of a chair.
Alex stared at Jenna.
“You told her that?”
“Because that’s what you told me,” Jenna shot back.
“I said we might discuss options with Mom.
I never said you could photograph her belongings.”
“You said she would agree once the wedding was over.”
Their voices rose until David interrupted them.
“Mrs.
Whitmore, do not sign anything they present.
I am coming to the apartment now.”
He arrived within forty minutes carrying a slim black briefcase.
By then, most of the luggage had been moved into the hallway under security supervision.
David reviewed the photographs on Mia’s phone.
They showed every room, the contents of the locked cabinet, the labels on my medication bottles, and several pages from my medical folder.
