You Don't Sever Family Ties. You Liquidate Them.

§PROLOGUE

The old dining chair wobbled under Leona’s feet.

Below her, her mother, Carol, was pulling at her leg with a frantic strength, her voice a shrill tear in the humid afternoon air.

“Get down from there! Are you insane? That thing cost a fortune!”

Leona ignored her, her fingers fumbling with the base of the Ring security camera she’d spent the better part of an hour installing.

Her knuckles brushed against the ceiling, dislodging a flake of peeling paint that spiraled down into the chaos below.

Just an hour ago, this camera had been a symbol of her devotion.

A peace offering.

A way to watch over a mother with a heart condition and a history of falling.

Now, it was Exhibit A in the trial of her supposed greed.

“It’s not about the money, Mom,” Leona said, her voice tight with a cold, rising certainty.

“It never was.”

The camera finally came loose in her hand.

Carol’s pulling intensified, a desperate, ugly tug.

“You ungrateful girl! After everything I’ve done for you!”

The chair tipped.

For a split second, Leona was airborne, a weightless spectator to her own downfall.

Then came the sharp, brutal impact of the wall corner against her lower back.

Pain flared, white-hot and blinding.

But it was nothing compared to the chilling clarity that bloomed in its wake.

She finally understood.

The camera wasn't the problem.

She was.

§01

It had all started with an act of love.

Or what Leona had mistaken for love.

A month ago, the doctor’s report had landed on the kitchen table like a verdict: Arteriosclerosis. Mild heart condition.

The words echoed the fear that had been a low hum in Leona’s life ever since her father’s sudden death years ago.

That fear had spiked into panic last summer when Carol had fallen trying to dry a few ears of corn on the porch, lying there for hours until a neighbor happened to stop by.

A broken leg and two weeks in bed had followed.

The memory was a stone in Leona’s gut.

So, on this sweltering Pennsylvania Sunday, she’d driven the two hours from her cramped city apartment back to Hollow Creek, the decaying Rust Belt town she’d fought so hard to escape.

In her hands, she carried the best Ring security system money could buy.

A digital lifeline.

A way to have eyes on her mother, even when she wasn't there.

When she’d opened the door to the old house, the first thing she’d seen wasn’t her mother’s smile, but the familiar scent of dampness and structural rot.

The second was her brother, Brendan, sunk deep into the sagging sofa, scrolling on his phone while munching on apple slices Carol had meticulously peeled for him.

He was supposed to be working.

He worked weekends at the local ShopRite, a job he perpetually complained about.

“Brendan?” Leona had asked, a knot of confusion tightening in her stomach. “I thought you were working today. You said you were busy.”

He didn’t even look up.

Before he could answer, Carol emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

Her tone was a familiar cocktail of complaint and self-righteousness.

“I couldn’t let you do this alone, could I? This… ‘security thing.’ Who knows what it really is? Could be one of those internet scams. I needed your brother here to make sure you weren’t being taken for a ride.”

Leona stared at Brendan, who once tried to fix a flickering lightbulb and ended up blowing a fuse for the entire block.

She looked at her mother’s face, etched with a blind, unwavering faith in her son’s nonexistent expertise.

The words died on her tongue.

She said nothing.

She simply unpacked her tools and began the painstaking process of finding the perfect corner in the living room, the one that offered the widest, most objective view.

§02

The drill whined, a high-pitched protest against the crumbling plaster.

Dust rained down, coating Leona’s hair and sticking to the sweat on her neck.

The house was an oven, the air thick and stagnant.

In minutes, her t-shirt was plastered to her back.

Just as a bead of sweat dripped into her eye, stinging, Carol came out of the kitchen.

A flicker of warmth, of hope, ignited in Leona’s chest.

But the glass in her mother’s hand, beaded with condensation, wasn’t for her.

Carol walked straight past her, a ship charting its unchangeable course.

“Bren, honey, drink this. A root beer float to cool you down.”

She placed the glass in his hand, then turned the ancient, rattling floor fan so its breeze was aimed solely at him, its blades chopping the hot air and sending it gusting over his inert form on the sofa.

Leona stood in her silent, sweltering corner, the drill heavy in her hand.

The sting in her eye had nothing to do with sweat anymore.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the camera was mounted, the wires hidden, the system online.

She pulled out her phone, the app glowing to life.

“See, Mom?” she said, holding the screen out. “It’s working. Now I can see you from the office, make sure you’re okay. We can even talk through it. Watch.”

She took a few steps back and spoke into her phone’s microphone.

“Mom?”

Her voice, crisp and clear, emanated from the small white box in the corner.

Carol stared at the screen, at the tiny, fish-eye view of her own living room.

Her expression wasn't one of wonder or relief.

It was hardening, like cement setting in the sun.

She didn't respond to Leona.

Instead, she jabbed her elbow sharply into Brendan’s side.

“You see that? You better learn from your sister, Bren.”

Brendan looked up, his face a mask of bovine incomprehension. “Huh? Learn what?”

Carol’s eyes, however, were fixed on Leona, sharp and cold as shards of glass.

“Learn how to be clever,” she hissed. “Learn how to disguise a takeover as an act of kindness. Twenty-four-seven surveillance on my life, all under the banner of ‘caring for me.’”

“Now she’ll know everything, won’t she? Where I keep the deed to the house. The PIN for my debit card. The exact day my pension check hits the bank.”

The air in the room seemed to crystallize.

Leona stood frozen, the phone in her hand suddenly feeling like a burning coal.

The purpose, so clear and noble in her mind just moments ago, was now twisted into something ugly, something conniving.

Seeing Leona’s stunned silence, Carol’s voice rose with triumphant accusation.

“Hit the nail on the head, didn’t I? Why else would you be so generous? You pay for the camera, but you make your poor brother pay the electric bill for it. How clever!”

“You’re all strategy, aren’t you? The one-time cost for you, the endless monthly payments for him. You think I’m too old to do that kind of math?”

She stepped closer, her finger jabbing the air just inches from Leona’s face.

“You’ve always been like this! Colder than a banker about every damn penny! I ask you for a little help, and you give me a thousand excuses! But for this? For your little spy operation? Suddenly you’re Miss Big Spender! You just want to see where my money is!”

Her words were a rusty saw, hacking away at something deep inside Leona.

“That physical you insisted on last month… it wasn’t about my health, was it? It was just a pretext! An excuse to justify this… this invasion!”

“Your brother told me! Those are just minor things old people get! Nothing to worry about! But you! You’re the one who’s always wishing me ill, hoping something happens to me, hoping I’d just… die!”

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