When he learned he was dying, he panicked at the thought of leaving her alone. Instead of telling me everything, he waited until he was too weak for an argument and asked me to adopt her.

“He used me,” I said.

Grace insisted he loved me and believed I was the only person kind enough to give her a home.

That made me angrier.

He had controlled when I would learn the truth and left me to handle the consequences after his death. He knew I would not refuse a dying man.

Grief hardened me.

I packed Grace’s clothes and placed her backpack by the door.

“You can return to Marta,” I said. “You have money. You are not my responsibility.”

Her face went pale.

“I never asked him to do this.”

“Neither did I.”

I told her that every time I looked at her, I would remember the years David had kept me blind. She picked up her bag and walked toward the stairs.

Before she reached the bottom, she collapsed onto a step.