I answered.
“Alyssa.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Mom?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A pause.
Then she said something that made my stomach tighten.
“Your father wants you to come home.”
I stared out the window.
“Why?”
“He says it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
Another pause.
Then:
“To stop protecting Aaron.”
My eyes closed.
So they knew.
Of course they knew.
My family had known for years.
They had watched me pour billions into a man who increasingly acted as though my existence was an inconvenience.
“Mom,” I whispered, “how much did Dad know?”
“All of it.”
My throat tightened.
“The money?”
“All of it.”
“The patents?”
“All of it.”
I swallowed.
“And Aaron?”
My mother didn’t answer immediately.
When she finally spoke, her voice had changed.
