Chapter 2

After the funeral, everyone returned to Grandma's house.

It was a modest, two-bedroom place and only about 800 square feet in size. The living room was packed wall to wall with people.

Aunt Fiona played the gracious hostess, offering everyone drinks. It looked like she was entertaining a bunch of honored guests.

I leaned against the wall, watching her. Grandma's voice, which I'd heard from the emerald bracelet earlier, kept echoing in my head.

"She took the bank card for the account with my pension payouts. She didn't let me have my medication on time."

Aunt Fiona was also around 50 years old, but she took good care of herself. She'd dyed her hair a fashionable shade of brown and gotten it permed. A gold bracelet dangled from her wrist, and her nails were perfectly manicured.

And Grandma?

During the last year of her life, she continued to wear the same worn cotton coat she'd owned for over a decade.

I slipped the emerald bracelet into my pocket and sat down beside Mom.

"Mom, I need to tell you something."

"Not now." Her eyes were still red, and her voice was hoarse. "We'll talk when we get home."

"It can't wait." I looked straight into her eyes. "I took Grandma's emerald bangle."

Mom jerked her head up. "You took it? That was your grandma's—"

"She wanted me to have it." Lowering my voice, I leaned close to her ear. "Mom, Grandma spoke to me."

Mom froze. She scrutinized my face, as if to check whether I'd lost my mind.

"Have you forgotten that ever since I was a kid, I've been able to hear voices whenever I touch certain things?" I asked.

Mom was somewhat aware of my unique ability. But she always chalked it up to me having an overactive imagination and never took it seriously.

"When I was little, I touched the cane that belonged to our old neighbor, Mrs. Lane Senior. I told you the cane said her grandson had stolen her pension money. You slapped me for making things up. Then what happened? The police ended up arresting her grandson," I reminded her.

Mom kept quiet. She still remembered that.

"I touched Grandma's bracelet," I said before taking a deep breath. "Grandma said she wants you to have the house. She said Uncle Michael was a terrible son and that he hit her. Aunt Fiona took her bank card for the account with her pension payouts, and when she got sick, Aunt Fiona didn't even let her have her medication on time."

Mom's lips started quivering. "S-stop making things up."

"Why would I be making these things up? Just think, Mom. Remember when you visited Grandma during the holidays last year? Didn't you notice a large bruise on her wrist?"

Mom's expression stiffened. She had indeed spotted a bruise on Grandma's wrist last year, but at the time, Uncle Michael said Grandma had fallen on her own. At the time, Grandma nodded and said that was the case.

"Grandma did that out of fear!" My voice was shaking. "She was scared that Uncle Michael would stop taking care of her, and she was scared of burdening you, too. That was why she never said a word. The only thing she could do was leave a message… saying that the house should go to you."

Mom gripped the tissue so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Tears started rolling down her cheeks.

"I knew it… I knew Michael was awful and couldn't be trusted…" she mumbled.

"Then why didn't you say something sooner?" I asked.

"I knew about it, but I was just too scared to say anything…"

Mom covered her face and sobbed so hard that her shoulders were shaking, but she dared not cry out loud. There were still quite a lot of people around, and she was afraid someone might hear her.

I pulled her into a hug and patted her on the back. "Don't be scared, Mom. I'm here. We'll fight for the house."

Still in my arms, she nodded. Her head barely moved, but it was just enough for me to feel it.