Chapter 1 - The Handle Turned
The first thing I heard after Derek poured the ice water over me was Linda laughing.
The cubes struck my forehead, bounced across my cheeks, and scattered beneath the cream sofa.
Freezing water soaked my floral dress and spread across the hardwood floor.
My body was already burning with a fever of 103.4 degrees.
The shock did not wake me.
It knocked me sideways.
My shoulder struck the floor, and a deep cough tore through my chest. I tried to pull in air, but my lungs felt filled with broken glass.
Derek stood above me in a white summer shirt and matching trousers, holding the empty metal pitcher.
“Stop faking. Clean the house.”
The digital thermometer lay near my fingertips.
I had shown him the number less than ten minutes earlier.
He looked at it, laughed, and told me everyone ran warm after cooking.
I had spent the entire day preparing food for eleven members of his family.
Two roasted turkeys.
Mashed potatoes.
Stuffing.
Green beans.
Three appetizers.
Pecan pie.
Linda insisted one turkey would make the table look cheap.
Richard complained that the wine was not chilled enough.
Derek sat in front of the television while I coughed into a dish towel and tried not to collapse near the stove.
Now the guests were gone.
Dirty dishes covered the counters.
My mother in law dragged a suitcase through the puddle and clicked her tongue.
“You are ruining the floor.”
“I cannot breathe.”
“You are breathing enough to complain.”
Richard entered from the guest room carrying a leather weekender and a bottle of bourbon.
“We need to leave,” he said. “Traffic to O’Hare will be terrible.”
I turned toward Derek.
“You are leaving?”
“We are going to Miami.”
“You said that was not decided.”
“It is decided now.”
I reached for the thermometer.
Derek kicked it beneath the entry table.
“I need a hospital.”
“You need sleep.”
“I cannot stand.”
“Then crawl.”
Linda smiled as though he had delivered a clever joke.
I stared at the three people wearing travel clothes while I lay soaked on the floor of the Gold Coast condominium I had purchased with money from my parents’ estate.
Derek threw a towel at my face.
“Dry the floor before the wood warps.”
“Please do not leave me.”
He slipped his passport into his jacket.
“When we get back, this place had better be spotless.”
Richard opened the door.
Cold hallway air moved into the condo.
Linda stepped over my legs.
Derek followed her.
He looked back once.
Not with concern.
With calculation.
Then he closed the door.
The electronic lock clicked.
Silence entered with it.
I remained on the floor, staring at the ceiling lights while they dissolved into white circles.
For a few seconds, I wondered whether this was how people died.
Not in a dramatic accident.
Not beneath thunder or sirens.
Quietly.
Under a chandelier they had paid for.
Abandoned by someone who had promised they would never be alone again.
My phone began vibrating near the sofa.
I reached toward it.
My fingers scraped the wet floor but fell several inches short.
The screen lit again.
NORA WALSH.
My late father’s attorney.
She had called four times that morning.
Derek told me she wanted another signature for an old tax filing.
He took my phone before I could answer.
Now it lay just beyond my hand.
I pulled myself forward.
The movement forced another violent cough from my lungs. Dark spots appeared at the edge of my vision.
The phone stopped ringing.
A message appeared.
CLAIRE, DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING. SOMEONE IS TRYING TO CLOSE ON YOUR CONDO IN MIAMI.
I read it twice.
My condo was in Chicago.
I owned no property in Miami.
The locked door handle turned.
A shadow appeared beneath it.
I stopped moving.
Derek had left less than a minute earlier.
Perhaps he had returned for something.
Perhaps Linda wanted another container of leftovers.
The door opened slowly.
A woman in a dark wool coat entered with the building manager behind her.
Nora Walsh saw me on the floor.
Her face changed instantly.
“Call an ambulance.”
The building manager pulled out his phone.
Nora crossed the room, dropped beside me, and placed two fingers against my neck.
“Claire, stay awake.”
“How did you get in?”
“You missed a legal verification call. I called the concierge. They said your husband had just left with luggage.”
I tried to point toward the thermometer.
“Fever.”
Nora found it beneath the table.
The screen still displayed 103.4.
The building manager stared at the water and ice.
“Did a pipe burst?”
“Derek poured it.”
Nora looked toward the open door.
“He left you like this?”
“For Miami.”
Her expression became colder.
“The closing is in Miami.”
“What closing?”
Paramedics rushed into the condo.
They placed an oxygen mask over my face and checked my blood pressure.
One of them listened to my lungs.
“We need to move now.”
Nora remained beside the stretcher.
“Derek submitted a contract this morning using your electronic signature. He is purchasing an oceanfront condominium for two point six million dollars.”
“With whose money?”
“Yours.”
I tried to lift my head.
“I did not sign.”
“I know.”
The paramedics pushed me toward the hallway.
Nora walked beside us.
“The Chicago condo is listed as collateral. The closing company called me because your parents’ trust still holds a title restriction.”
“Can they sell this place?”
“Not without you.”
“Then stop it.”
“I already requested a fraud hold.”
The elevator doors opened.
Before the stretcher entered, the building manager approached Nora with a small black object.
“I found this beneath the entry table.”
It was the thermometer’s charging base.
A green light blinked on the side.
The thermometer automatically synchronized every reading with the home health application Derek had installed after I developed asthma.
The application recorded the temperature.
The time.
And the user who opened the alert.
Derek had viewed my 103.4 degree fever more than three hours earlier.
May you like
He knew exactly how sick I was before he poured ice water over me and left.
Continue to the next part: Claire reaches the hospital while Nora freezes the Miami closing and discovers that Derek used a medical emergency clause to claim authority over her property.
