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Just like it’s taking a toll on me now.

Lord, why?

Faith has always been a part of my life. And lately, I’ve had to lean on Him more than I ever have before. Losing every single member of my family within a few years of each other has definitely taken its toll on me.

But I know that even so, God is good.

Taking a deep breath, I head down the empty hallway of the care facility, walking toward the open patio doors at the end of the hall. Two minutes of air, then I’ll head back into the party like nothing is wrong.

Two minutes, and I’ll have a brand-new mood.

Reaching up, I grip the cross around my neck, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the worn brass like I’ve done nearly every day since my mom gifted it to me for my sixteenth birthday. Lord, please help me find my way.

“You can’t just change your mind, you old fool,” a man snarls from just up ahead. I stop in my tracks, his tone chilling me to the bone. There is so much aggression, so much anger.

Is it coming from a TV show or movie? Did someone leave one on?

It’s not unheard of. Just last week, Mrs. Marooney left Gilmore Girls playing so loud I thought it was a nurse begging for coffee in an IV.

“It’s my money.” Mr. Prescott. His voice is one I recognize instantly, which dashes all hope that it’s just a TV show that’s been left on too long. “And I will do with it what I please.”

“Your money? You only have that money because of the sacrifices I made!” the other man snarls. “It’s just as much mine as it is yours! Even more so!”

I move a bit farther down the hall, though I keep close to the wall and take my phone from my pocket just in case. As far as I know, Mr. Prescott doesn’t have any children. In the few months he’s lived here, no one has even come to visit him. But that doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t someone outside of these walls he calls family.

While a family altercation is not uncommon here and is rarely necessary, it’s still good to be prepared. I open the contact to our in-house security office and hover my thumb over the call button.

Heart pounding, I continue forward. Unease churns in my belly, twisting me into knots. Something feels wrong.

“I will not allow you to give her everything we worked for. Everything I sacrificed for!”

“And just tell me, what did you sacrifice?” Mr. Prescott snaps. “We both know you’ve been skimming off the top every year since you started working for me. What is that account in the Caymans up to now? Fifteen, sixteen million?”

I cover my mouth with a shaking hand. Sixteen million dollars?

I knew Mr. Prescott had money. Everyone here does—except for me and my grandfather—but whoever this is skimmed sixteen million? That is insane!

There is no immediate response from the other man as I inch closer. My stomach twists in the silence, and I decide it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Tapping “Call”, I stick the phone up to my ear and wait for an answer.

“That’s a drop in the bucket compared to what you owe me, old man. And I am not someone who doesn’t collect on debts.”

More ringing.

“My mind is made up.”

More ringing. My pulse quickens, and the fear grows. Why are they not answering?

“Then I guess it’s a good thing no one else knows, isn’t it? After tonight, the secret dies with you. She won’t get a penny.”

The secret dies with you.

I sprint forward, closing the distance to Mr. Prescott’s room in three long strides.

Two men stand just inside, one wearing a dark suit and a grey tie, the other a black button-down and black slacks. Both turn to me.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you both to leave,” I say, doing my best to keep my tone calm despite my shaking hands. Where is security? They’ve never not answered!