Chapter 3

The next morning, not one of Grandma's pills was missing.

Not because they'd given them to her. They hadn't fed her a single one.

April was in front of the mirror, pressing on false lashes.

"Brand review's today. The pills make her drowsy, and that looks terrible on camera."

In the bedroom, Hudson had already dressed Grandma in a red coat. Her face was gray, her lips cracked and peeling. When she saw me, her fingers twitched against the blanket.

April spotted the catheter bag and frowned.

"That's disgusting on camera. Pull it out."

I clamped a hand around her wrist.

"You can't pull that."

She agreed to my face. Then, the moment I turned to grab the fixation clip, she yanked the connector tube loose. Grandma shuddered all over, a cry of pain forced up out of her throat.

I'd barely finished resealing the connection when Hudson scooped Grandma up.

"Ten minutes downstairs for the shoot. It won't kill her."

I chased them down. By the time I reached the yard, Grandma was already propped up in front of the flower bed, a ring of neighbors gathered to watch.

April aimed the camera at her.

"Grandma, which grandchild do you love best?"

Grandma's face was bloodless. She managed only one word.

"Freda..."

"Again."

Sitting wasn't moving enough for April. She wanted the shot: eight years paralyzed, and her grandson's love makes her stand again.

I rushed over.

"She can't stand!"

Grandma's legs buckled, and she pitched forward off the step, wheelchair and all.

I threw myself over her and covered her head. The wheelchair slammed into my back, and the corner of my forehead struck the concrete. My vision went white first, then blood ran down into my eyes.

April was still holding up her phone.

"Hudson, lift her one more time. The shot shook just now."

Grandma convulsed in my arms, her lips going purple.

"Call an ambulance!"

My mother came running down, and the first thing she did was grab for the phones.

"Delete it, hurry, don't ruin Hudson's job offer!"

My father pointed at me and shouted to the neighbors.

"She was jealous of her brother, so she shoved the wheelchair down on purpose!"

At the hospital, the doctor said the stopped medication plus the botched catheter removal had nearly killed her.

They stitched my forehead. I'd just reached the door of the ward, the anesthetic still working, half my face numb. The door wasn't shut all the way, and I heard my mother inside, coaxing Grandma.

"Mom, just press here. Hudson signs tomorrow. We can't do it without this statement."

The drugs hadn't worn off Grandma yet; she couldn't even keep her eyes open. My father gripped her hand and pressed it to the document while Hudson filmed beside him.

"Grandma voluntarily names me as her sole caregiver. Her granddaughter has abused her for years and is unfit to live with her."

I pushed the door open and started recording.

Hudson lunged at me and smashed the phone hard against the floor.

"At tomorrow's project signing, you'll admit in front of everyone that you stole the money and that you pushed Grandma down the stairs."

He pointed at the bandage on my forehead.

"Refuse, and I hand the edited video to Anthem. You'll never land another caregiving job again."

I picked up the phone.

Under the shattered screen, the cloud upload had just finished.