I tried to look away, but the invisible tether of the afterlife dragged me in her wake.
The night deepened. My body was drifting down the dark currents of the river, cold and alone. Yet here, Bonnie noticed nothing amiss. Her world had narrowed to one man.
Worried the night wind might chill him, she ushered him inside.
This was the same Bonnie who would give me the cold shoulder for days if I spoke out of turn. Yet tonight, she knelt before him. Removed his shoes. Took his bag. Prepared a warm foot bath with her own hands.
A level of tenderness I had never received. Not once in my life.
Not even in my death.
They say loving someone is like tending to a garden. Watching them now, I realized how true that was.
Years ago, Brandon Pruitt had been deported, returning in disgrace. He came to Bonnie like a wounded animal, begging for a place to stay. I tried to stop it. Bonnie respected my wishes at the time.
I never expected Brandon to hold such a deep grudge over my hesitation. I never expected him to abduct my daughter in retaliation.
And I certainly never expected Bonnie to help him cover it up.
Looking back, I had sacrificed everything to find Mandy. My job. My family's financial security. Every cent went to search teams and missing person flyers. I mortgaged my parents' home and sold off every asset to my name.
Bonnie knew the truth. She watched me drown in debt and agony.
Yet while I was on my knees begging for help, she used our joint savings to buy this villa for Brandon. She brought Mandy here, living openly with her first love in a twisted domestic fantasy.
I looked around the room. The decor was exquisite, the furnishings meticulous. Every cushion, every vase, every painting—hand-picked by Bonnie.
The woman who procrastinated for days before washing a single bowl at our house had poured her soul into this place. She moved mountains for Brandon. I couldn't even get her to look at me.
The difference between obligation and obsession was painful to witness.
I forced down the bile rising in my throat, willing the ghostly tears to stay unshed. Then Mandy looked up at Bonnie, her eyes wide and terrifyingly innocent.
"Mommy, when are you going to marry Uncle Brandon?" Her voice was sweet. "I want him to be my daddy."
The words were small, but they gutted me.