CHAPTER 2: Vivian Wore Red to the Eviction

Vivian had not worn black after Aaron died.
At the funeral she wore pearl gray. At the attorney's office she wore cream. Tonight, when she opened the front door and saw Maya on the porch, she wore red like a woman attending the beginning of her own inheritance.
'You should have called first,' Vivian said, though Maya had left three messages and one email that morning.
'I came for Aaron's files,' Maya answered. 'And the box from his office.'
Vivian smiled then, small and sharp. 'Aaron's things belong to the Graydon family.'
Maya had been too tired to argue at the door. Three weeks of condolences had taught her that people often loved the dead best when they could use them against the living.
Then Vivian reached for the suitcase beside Maya's ankle and shoved it down the porch steps.
It opened on the second step. Everything spilled into the rain before Maya could move.
Lucas flinched. Vivian did not.
'I called the police,' Vivian said. 'They can explain boundaries in a way you understand.'
The cruelty was not loud. It did not need to be. It had the careful posture of a woman who believed witnesses made her safer.