My apartment finally fell silent.

And across the ocean, I realized that although I’d protected my home, I still had years of deception to untangle.

Paige called the following morning.

I almost ignored the call.

For years, seeing her name on my phone had meant another problem requiring money.

But this time, I answered.

“Marissa?”

“Yes.”

“The children are okay.”

“I’m glad.”

There was a pause.

Then she said:

“I’m sorry.”

I waited.

For once, she didn’t add an excuse.

“I really thought you’d give in,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Because you always did.”

Her honesty hurt.

But it was better than another carefully rehearsed explanation.

“Mom kept telling me you had everything,” Paige continued. “She said you bought that apartment because Grandma helped you financially.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“What?”

“Dad told me you received your inheritance early.”

I sat down.

“I never received an inheritance.”