ACE
My mother didn’t let the silence linger for long.
She turned from the window slowly, her expression too composed, too deliberate. That was always the warning sign. Willow Grant never struck when she was emotional—she struck when she was calm.
“When was the last time you saw Ella?” she asked.
I exhaled through my nose, already tired. “A few days ago.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “And?”
“She stayed over.”
Something sharp flickered in her eyes. “Stayed over,” she repeated. “Then why isn’t she here now?”
I ran a hand down my face. “Because I asked her to leave.”
That did it.
Willow’s composure cracked just enough to let her anger bleed through. “You did what?”
“I asked her to leave,” I said again, firmer this time. “And I don’t regret it.”
She stepped closer, heels clicking shar
