I hated how calm she was.
I hated even more that she seemed to understand.
“What reason?”
“He thought if he accepted it, you wouldn’t be safe.”
I stared at her.
“Safe from what?”
Claire didn’t answer.
I looked down at Jack’s letter.
The next paragraph was darker, the handwriting less steady.
Emma, I know what you’re thinking.
I know what you sacrificed.
I know what the treatments cost us.
And I know you may never forgive me for not using this money.
But once Claire and I began asking questions about our father, someone started watching us.
My anger disappeared.
Not slowly.Instantly.
“What does that mean?”
Claire stood and walked toward the window.
She moved the curtain aside slightly and looked outside.
The gesture sent ice through my veins.
“Claire?”
“Keep reading.”
Three weeks after I met Claire, someone broke into her apartment.
Nothing was stolen.
