“Shit,” I hissed, swiping back and forth and up and down, trying to see the messages again.

This time, the phone prompted me for a six-digit password. There were too many potential combinations, and I didn’t know anything about Georgia, not really. I didn’t even know her birthday, which was sad considering she was supposedly my fiancé’s best friend.

I put the phone back on the shelf, a shiver running through me. I hadn’t recognized the number on the message, and now that I’d unsuccessfully tried to unlock the home screen, I could no longer see it displayed. But that message… that certainly wasn’t from a friend, or some sort of prank.

Similarly, with my ‘well wishes’, there was someone threatening Georgia. I wondered what she’d done to make someone that angry.

Chapter Twelve

Elizabeth

The mother-in-law

My hands were shaking as I lifted the heavy pot of coffee and poured myself a full cup. I lifted the brew to my lips and sipped, enjoying the burning sensation on my tongue and the roof of my mouth. A punishment that was well-deserved felt good sometimes.

I’d barely slept a wink since returning to the mansion at half past three that morning. Georgia, after all the antihistamines and cortisol, was exhausted, barely able to trudge up the stairs and fall into bed.

But me, I couldn’t shake off the feelings of fear and regret in my chest.

It’s impossible to break a heart, in reality. But certain things, certain events, can certainly break a person. Losing my beloved husband fractured something in me. And sitting in that hospital waiting room last night, hour after hour, waiting for Georgia… all I could do was sit and think about the last time I’d been in a room like that.

Edmund had suffered from heart issues since his mid-forties. A stint here, a valve replacement there, ablation surgeries and tweaking his pacemaker as he grew older. Waiting around during his surgeries and procedures had become like second nature to me. In fact, I’d been downright annoyed by him that evening before. I’d wanted to go out to a local event at our church and he hadn’t felt up to it. Maybe I should just take myself. You’re no fun anymore, I’d snapped at him.

Maybe you should, Elizabeth, Edmund had said, his voice mopey and sad. We used to go out and do fun things. We used to be fun, happy people…

I’d rolled my eyes and spent the evening watching news programs on TV while he rested.

That next morning, he didn’t feel any better. Again, I thought he was overreacting—over the years, he’d become overly health conscious, which was good for his heart but sometimes aggravating to deal with as his partner. I liked eating red meat and drinking alcohol, thank you very much.