Daniel folded his arms. “Has she seen a physician?”

Beatrice shook her head. “She refuses. Says doctors gossip.”

“And you let that continue?” I asked.

Her face hardened, then fell.

“I didn’t know how to stop her.”

For once, I believed her.

Not forgave her.

Believed her.

Beatrice left without the bakery box. Inside were lemon tarts from the bakery Father used to visit after court hearings. Emma wanted one, and I hesitated before allowing it.

It felt strange to accept sweetness from someone who had helped push us away.

But rejecting it would not make my daughter safer.

We ate at the kitchen table, and Emma got powdered sugar on her nose.

“Aunt Bea looked sad,” she said.

“She did.”

“Can sad people still bring treats?”

I brushed sugar from her chin.

“Sometimes they can.”

Part 6: ORY

By evening, Elliot sent a scanned copy of the recorded deed.