Emily looked at me with that expression women who have seen enough of the world have—enough to not ask unnecessary questions.
“I understand family issues.”
“You could say that.”
“I’ve seen it before. Children who suddenly become very interested in their parents’ well-being when they smell an inheritance. Don’t worry. I can have this sold in three weeks if you accept a fair price.”
“How much?”
“One eighty-five. There’s a young couple looking in this area. They have the money ready. They just need to find the right house. Yours fits perfectly.”
Three weeks.
That was the time I had to dismantle forty years of my life and start over—to pack every object, every photograph, every piece of my history into boxes that would go to a place I didn’t even know yet.
“Do it.”
We signed the papers that same afternoon. Emily explained every clause, every legal term, making sure I understood exactly what I was doing. The sale would be in cash without financing, which meant it could close in less than a month once we found the right buyer.
“And where do you plan to move?” she asked as she put the documents in her briefcase.
“I don’t know yet. I need to find something small, safe, where no one knows where I am.”
“I know a building downtown—apartments for seniors, but it’s not assisted living. They’re independent apartments with twenty-four-hour security, cameras, a doorman. A lot of retired nurses live there. I could get you a one-bedroom for nine hundred a month. I can show it to you today.”
We went that same afternoon.
The building was modern, six stories high with a clean facade and a small but well-maintained garden at the entrance. The doorman greeted Emily by name. Clearly, she had brought clients before.
The apartment on the third floor was empty and smelled of fresh paint. A small living room with a window facing the street. An integrated kitchen with new appliances. A bedroom large enough for my bed and a closet. A full bathroom with grab bars already installed.
“It’s perfect.”
“You don’t want to think about it?”
“There’s nothing to think about. I’ll take it.”
I signed the lease that same day, paying three months in advance with the money I had saved. Two thousand seven hundred that hurt to take out of my account, but it was an investment in my freedom.
For the next two weeks, I lived a double life.
