At my sister’s funeral, her boss slipped me a sealed envelope and whispered, “Don’t tell your family—you could be in danger,” while my grieving brother watched us from ten feet away like he already knew what she had left behind.

Around five, Travis came in to check my vitals again. While he worked, he asked if I’d heard from the police about the accident. I said no. He told me they’d probably want my statement soon.

It wasn’t until later, lying there with the lights dimmed, that I started replaying the crash in my mind. I remembered the green light, the blur of white on my left, the sickening sound of metal folding in on itself. I remembered trying to move my arm and the seat belt locking me in place.

Then there was the paramedic asking who to call. My choice in that moment said more than I’d realized. I could have said Natalie. I didn’t. I said Boyd.

That wasn’t just about the accident. That was about years of knowing who I could rely on and who I couldn’t.

And the truth was, Natalie had never been on the reliable list.

A light knock on the door pulled me out of it.

Denise, back for the night shift, peeked in. “Need anything?”

“I’m good,” I said.

She came in anyway, straightening the blanket and checking the IV line.

“You’ve got the look,” she said.

“What look?”

“The look of someone who’s realizing a few things about the people in their life,” she said, not unkindly.

I didn’t answer, but she wasn’t wrong.

Dinner was another forgettable tray—lukewarm pasta, a dinner roll, and something that might have been pudding. I ate enough to take with my meds and pushed the rest aside.

By the time the hall lights dimmed for the night, I was exhausted but not ready to sleep. My mind kept circling the same points: the accident, the inheritance, Natalie’s sudden interest in helping with investments.

The accident had taken me out of my plan to keep things low-key, but it hadn’t changed the fact that I needed to protect what was mine. If anything, it made that even more urgent.

I adjusted the bed to sit up a little, wincing at the pull in my shoulder. Outside the window, the streetlights reflected off wet pavement. Somewhere beyond them, the river ran past Aunt Evelyn’s house. Quiet for now.

The thought crossed my mind that it wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

The next morning started with the smell of overly strong coffee drifting in from the nurses’ station. Denise rolled in a vitals cart, humming something off-key. She checked my blood pressure and grinned.

“Looks like you’re stabilizing nicely, which means you’ll be getting more visitors.”

That was her way of warning me.