In reality, she had a perfectly decent Social Security check every month, a paid-off one-bedroom condo in a decent neighborhood downtown, and healthy legs that definitely didn’t require dragging Darius to her weekend place every single Saturday.
But Darius believed her performance—or at least pretended to believe it.
Kiana closed another file full of numbers and leaned back heavily in her office chair.
Outside the window, she could see gray rooftops, bare tree branches, and the dull color of old asphalt stretching into the distance.
A dull October day, one of thousands she’d lived through.
Only this day was special, different.
She felt it in every single cell of her body.
Kiana arrived home exactly at six o’clock, as she always did.
She climbed the four flights of stairs slowly, unlocked the door, and immediately heard voices coming from the kitchen.
Darius and his mother were already sitting at the small kitchen table, drinking tea from her good china cups.
A box of store-bought chocolate cream puffs sat on the table between them, sticky and sickeningly sweet.
“Oh, Kiki, come in, come in,” Ms. Sterling said, waving her hand as if she were inviting Kiana into her own home instead of the other way around.
“Darius and I are having some tea. Join us, dear.”
Kiana took off her jacket carefully, hung it on the hook by the door, and walked into the kitchen.
Her mother-in-law was dressed to the nines—a light silk blouse, pressed dark slacks, hair set in perfect waves, and a fresh, subtle beige manicure that must have cost sixty dollars at the salon.
The classic sixty-something American woman who took elaborate care of herself and wanted everyone to notice and admire her efforts.
“Hello, Ms. Sterling.”
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