I called Brown. “Uncle Brown, one last favor. Help me get access to the Hayes family’s surveillance footage.”
Outside, the sky grew dark. I clutched the recorder, my nails digging into my palms.
The hospital door swung open. Ryan walked in carrying a bouquet of blood-red roses.
The overwhelming fragrance hit my nose. My throat tightened, and I coughed, hives spreading on my skin.
I was allergic to roses. Since I was fifteen, when I’d landed in the hospital after eating rose jam, I had warned him countless times. Back in our Queens apartment, he’d laughed while bundling me in blankets, saying, “I’ll never buy roses again, just to keep you safe.”
But now—he had forgotten.
Ryan shoved the roses into my arms. When I pulled back, his smile faltered.
“Evelyn, I know you’ve been upset lately, but Sophia just had a kidney transplant. She’s weak. You should give way to her. Do you remember what your mother said when she entrusted you to me? ‘Ryan, from now on, you’re the one Evelyn can rely on most.’ Tell me—which of my actions hasn’t been for your own good?”
“For my own good?” My grip on Aaron’s urn trembled. “You mean taking his kidney was for my good?”
Ryan frowned. “Why bring that up again? Sophia was the victim. Aaron’s medical bills depended on the Hayes family. If you keep this up, I’ll stop his treatment right now. Do you want him dead?”
He didn’t even know Aaron was already gone—dead the very day Ryan “sought justice” for Sophia.
Looking at his self-righteous face, the itching in my throat turned to stabbing pain.
I hugged the urn tighter. “Fine. I won’t argue.”
Thinking I’d yielded, Ryan’s expression softened. He patted the sofa beside him. “That’s better. Tomorrow there’s an auction at the New York Art Center. Come with me, clear your mind. We’ll pick some jewelry for Sophia. Get along with her.”
I said nothing. My eyes drifted to the suitcase in the corner. After the auction, I would leave for good.
At the auction, Ryan escorted Sophia ahead of me. She wore a champagne-colored gown, glancing back with mocking eyes, while I trailed like a shadow.
As Ryan bid on one extravagant piece after another for Sophia, I felt nothing anymore.
“The next item: the final work of the late painter Edward Lane, Spring Rain Returns, starting bid: fifty thousand.”