I feigned ignorance while silently observing and recording their every move. I slipped a small voice recorder into my cardigan pocket, capturing their careless conversations about homes they would buy and vacations they would take once I was out of the picture. Each cruel remark and offhand comment was a step closer to their downfall.

Then came the day they had been waiting for. We sat in a lawyer’s office, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and the tension of my supposed surrender. Daniel and Paula looked expectantly at me as I hesitated over signing the power of attorney documents. I let my hand tremble, hovering over the paper as I glanced at them.