I swallow back bile. “Listen to you! You made me think I was on death’s doorstep. So many procedures. I was in agony. You…you stole my entire life!”
“You should be thanking me. You were always so ungrateful.”
I stare at her, the impact of everything she’s done crashing over me in a thousand splintering shards. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. “You’re sick,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You’re sicker than I ever was. You never loved me.”
“Love?” she echoes, her head tilting to the side like she’s genuinely puzzled by the accusation. Her eyes glint dangerously. “I gave you love. I gave youeverything, Josie.” Her voice takes on a strange, almost giddy tone. “We had people—so many people—taking care of us. Raising money. Fighting for your future! Lifting us up like we were theirsaviors! We were even on the cover ofParade.” Her eyes gleam with a terrifying mania.
“That wasn’t love!” I’m sobbing now, the tears streaming hot down my face. Everything is justtoo much.“That was betrayal. The only real cancer I ever had”—I choke on my words, half gasping, half laughing—“wasMamaBearSharon. Jesus Christ…how does that even happen? How does a mother becomeworsethan chemo?!”
My voice cracks, and the sobs take over again, leaving me hiccupping. I can’t listen to whatever this woman has to say next. The mother I thought I knew, thought I loved, is gone, if she everreally existed at all. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m about to slam the door when one last shoe drops.
Nonna.
No, not Nonna, too. Her mysterious stomach flu the last week of her life. The pillow on the floor—I wondered why it wasn’t under her head, but that day was such chaos, I figured a doctor tossed it on the floor to use the paddles.
Suddenly I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
“You killed Nonna,” I say, my voice sharp with fury, and my mother doesn’t even bother to deny it. “You knew I was closing in on the truth. Once I got my hands on some of those files, it was only a matter of time. So you silenced the one person who could confirm everything.”
“Nonna was old, Josie,” she says, her voice calm, no-nonsense; it makes my skin crawl. “She was in pain. I just…helped.”
Helped.What a perfectly grotesque word in her mouth. “Helped…like you helped me?” I ask. “Like you’re helping yourself to this fancy spa day?”
“Josie, don’t you see?” she hisses. “Everything I did, I did for us! We were a team—MamaBearSharon and JosieFightsOn!”
“We were not a team. We were anact,” I spit out. “A sick, twisted, disgusting double act! That’s all we ever were because of you.”
“People loved us,” she says.
“That wasn’t love,” I say sadly. “That was pity.”
I pick up her cell phone, which is resting on top of her clothes on a chair. “Give me your passwords,” I tell her, my voice firm.
“What?” Color drains from her face.
“You heard me. Give me your passwords, or I’ll call 911 right now and report a murder.”
“Josie, don’t be silly!”
“Silly is pretty much the last thing I’m feeling right now.”
My mother knows me better than to risk it. In a low, furious whisper, she spits out her passwords. I click through to her socials folder and delete MamaBearSharon’s accounts on all platforms.
Her entire empire, gone in an instant.
As I step out of the room, I pull out my phone and punch in 911. “I’d like to report a murder,” I say as soon as the dispatcher answers. “And I’ve got all the evidence you’ll need.”
“Josie!” screeches my mother. “You said—”
“I lied,” I interrupt. “Kind of the way you did for my entire life.”
Fifty-Six
Josie
One year later
“Axe, you gonna make it, or did you finally meet your match?” I shout, glancing back to see him doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping. “C’mon! Don’t tell me a big, tough Scotsman like you lets a wee hike take him out!”
