I Bought A Country House With My Husband’s Inheritance To Get Away. Then My Son Called:

When I finished preparing dinner, Andre came to inspect my work. He tasted the gravy and frowned. “It’s too salty.

Make it again.”

“Andre, the gravy is perfect. I’ve been making it this way for 30 years, and your father loved it.”

“My father isn’t here anymore, and our guests won’t like it. make it again and don’t contradict me in front of them.”

I was about to protest when Kiara appeared in the kitchen.

She wore a sleek black dress and jewelry that cost more than my car. She looked me up and down with barely concealed disdain. “Is dinner ready?

Our guests are waiting.”

“Almost,” I murmured, starting to make a new batch of gravy. “Good. And Andre told me you’ve been having trouble remembering things lately.” Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were cold as ice.

“Is it true you forgot to turn off the stove yesterday?”

It was a lie. I had never forgotten to turn off anything, but I could see where this conversation was going. “I didn’t forget anything, Kiara.”

“M.” She exchanged a significant look with Andre.

“Well, we all get older. It’s natural for the mind to start failing.”

“My mind is perfectly fine.”

“Of course, dear.” Her smile was condescending. “That’s why it’s so important to have someone to look after you.”

During dinner, they treated me like an invisible servant.

I served the plates, refilled the wine glasses, and cleaned up spills while they talked as if I didn’t exist. But when Andre started telling the story of how he had convinced his mother to buy the farm, I couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Actually,” I said from where I was collecting plates.

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