“What are you waiting for?”
I picked up my handbag from the onyx table.
Blood still trickled from my palm.
But my hand didn’t shake.
“I just wanted to remember this moment clearly,” I said.
Margaret laughed.
“What, so you can tell your therapist?”
I looked at Ethan.
At his mother.
At the relatives hiding behind their wine glasses.
“No,” I replied.
“For the judge.”
Then I walked out without closing the door.
And none of them had any idea what they had just awakened.
PART 2
That same night, Ethan changed the locks.