DEBORAH'S POV
The hospital discharged me three hours after I demanded it. The doctor had tried to convince me to stay another day, rattling off medical terms about observation periods and emotional stability, but I signed whatever papers they put in front of me. I needed to get to Father's house. I needed to be where he had been.
Victoria's husband drove us there in silence. Deborah sat in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing back at me through the rearview mirror with that look people get when they're around the recently bereaved. Like I might shatter if they breathed too hard.
The mansion looked the same as always from the outside. The same imposing stone facade, the same perfectly manicured hedges, the same circular driveway that could fit twenty cars. But somehow it felt smaller now. Empty. Cars lined the street and filled the driveway. People I barely recognized milled around the front entrance, all dressed in black, all speaking in those hushed tones reserved for death.
