Grant

The garden door creaked open beneath my hand, and for a second, I could almost pretend the estate didn’t feel like a prison. The garden, overgrown and forgotten, was the only corner of this house that still felt like mine.

But she was already there. My mother. Standing just outside the threshold like a ghost waiting to be let in.

“Why are you here? Why were you so silent in there?”

“I just got here,” she said quickly, and then grabbed my wrist like she thought I might ...