“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

I told her in an icy tone to enjoy that last meal. I told her it was the last meal she would eat comfortably in this house and perhaps the last decent meal before facing justice. My words terrified Jessica even more. She tried to grab my hand, begging for forgiveness, calling me dear Sarah in an attempt at familiarity, but I pulled my hand away in disgust. I didn’t need apologies from the woman who had destroyed my home and insulted my mother on the day of her funeral. Mr. Harrison looked at me with pride. He saw in me the reflection of Mrs. Vance. He took control of the situation again.