Before I could react, she slid something into my palm—a battered, outdated phone, scratched and clearly hidden for years. Not the sleek smartphone she usually carried.
“Promise me,” she whispered. “Don’t let him know.”
Her hand fell away. The monitor began to shriek.
Nurses rushed in, pushing me aside as they tried to revive her. Minutes later, a doctor shook his head gently. Eleanor Price was gone.
I stood frozen, the hidden phone burning in my hand.
Then the door opened.
Thomas walked in.
His face was pale, eyes red—but when he saw me at Eleanor’s bedside, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then his gaze dropped.
Straight to the phone in my hand.
“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.
The tone made my stomach drop. I finally understood Eleanor’s fear. I slipped the phone into my pocket, my heart racing.
“Your mother gave it to me,” I said quietly.
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“What did she tell you?”
In that moment, I knew—whatever was on that phone could destroy everything I believed about my husband.