Chapter 8 - RITA RETURNED THE KEY
Rita asked to meet me.
I almost refused.
Helen advised that if I chose to, I should do it with attorneys present.
So we met in a conference room.
Rita looked different without the pale-pink dress and hospital confidence.
Tired.
Afraid.
She placed my old house key on the table.
“It doesn’t work anymore.”
“I know.”
She almost smiled.
I didn’t.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which part?”
Her eyes dropped.
“The affair.”
“Keep going.”
“The house.”
“Keep going.”
She swallowed.
“I knew Victor intended to transfer it.”
“Did you know I hadn’t agreed?”
“He said you would.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Rita closed her eyes.
“I knew you hadn’t yet.”
There.
Not innocence.
She had been waiting for my consent to be manufactured.
“Why did you take the key?”
“He said I needed access to measure rooms and collect property records.”
“Before I signed anything.”
“Yes.”
“And the draft?”
“I had it prepared.”
That mattered.
Victor had claimed Rita only handled logistics.
She had commissioned the document.
“Did you believe the power of attorney allowed it?”
“He said it did.”
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
Convenient.
Then Rita surprised me.
“Victor told me you were sick before the transplant.”
I went cold.
“What?”
“He said you had health problems and didn’t want the burden of the house anymore.”
I stared at her.
The cancer had not been discovered yet.
So what illness had he invented?
“He said doctors were watching something.”
“No.”
Rita went pale.
“He told me that months ago.”
Victor had created a fictional illness for me before I had a real one.
Something about that felt almost obscene.
He needed Rita to believe I was already fading out of my own life.
Marriage ending.
House unwanted.
Health uncertain.
A woman preparing to disappear.
May you like
Then reality handed me an actual diagnosis.
And I had never felt more determined to remain.
