He Asked Me to Die Again, So I Named My Price novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: The Offer

The morning-room lights came on all at once.

Dorothea Stoughton stood in the doorway in a cream cardigan, fully dressed at five in the morning, with the family lawyer one step behind her.

The housekeeper hovered at the end of the hall.

Nobody said anything.

Calla's hand closed over the leather folder, and she did not let go.

"Put it down, darling," Dorothea said. "You will crease the photographs."

"No."

"Calla."

"You picked her." Calla's voice cracked. "You wrote her name in the margin. You let my brother ask her to die."

Dorothea sighed, a small tired sound.

"I chose a donor," she said. "I am seventy-two, and you were dying. There was a match. I would have chosen anyone."

"You chose someone you knew would come back."

"Yes." The old woman did not blink. "And you are alive. I do not apologize for that."

She came into the room and sat down at the table across from Yvette, and folded her hands.

The lawyer set a slim envelope on the polished wood.

"Yvette," Dorothea said. "I have been fond of you, in all your faces. I mean that."

"You kept photographs of me."

"I kept watch on you. It is not the same." Dorothea nudged the envelope toward her. "This is a trust in your name. Two million dollars, no conditions, and a flat in any city you like. A flight tonight. A new life, with every comfort."

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