9-year-old Rachel stood frozen in the crowded memorial hall. Her small hands gripping a tiny bottle so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. All around her, grown-ups were crying and hugging each other, talking about how wonderful her mother was. But Rachel wasn’t listening to their words anymore.

She was watching one person, just one. Miss Glattis, her mother’s so-called best friend, stood at the front of the room, dabbing at her eyes with a white tissue. Glattis wore a black dress and spoke in a voice that sounded sad and gentle, like a lullaby.

“Grace was more than a friend to me,” Glattis said, her voice breaking. “She was like my sister. And I promise I will always be here for her precious family.”

People nodded and whispered how kind Glattis was. How lucky they were to have such a caring friend. But Rachel knew the truth, and the truth was burning inside her like fire. Her legs began to shake. Her mouth felt dry. But then she remembered something her mother always told her.

“Always speak the truth, even when it’s hard.”

Rachel took a deep breath and stood up. “You’re lying.” Her voice rang out across the silent room. Everyone turned to stare at her. “You’re not her friend. You killed my mom.”

The memorial hall exploded with shocked gasps. Someone dropped their glass. It shattered on the floor with a loud crash. Whispers filled the air like angry bees. Glattis’s face went pale, white as paper. Her sweet, sad expression melted away like ice cream in the sun. And for just a moment, Rachel saw something dark and terrible flash in her eyes. But Rachel didn’t care. She had to tell everyone what really happened. She had to speak for her mother.

Rachel and her parents lived in a beautiful apartment on the east side of the city. It wasn’t just any apartment. It was special. The building was tall with big windows that let sunshine pour into every room. Their apartment was on the eighth floor, and from the balcony, you could see the whole city stretching out like a colorful blanket. Inside, the apartment was warm and cozy. There were three bedrooms, one for mom and dad, one for Rachel, and one that mom used as an office where she wrote stories on her computer.

The kitchen was Rachel’s favorite room. It was big and bright with white cabinets and a marble counter that felt cool when you touched it. Mom loved to bake in that kitchen, and it always smelled like fresh cookies, cinnamon rolls, or apple pie. The living room had a soft blue couch that felt like sitting on a cloud. Every Friday night, the family would pile onto that couch with bowls of popcorn and watch movies together. Mom would sit in the middle, dad on one side, and Rachel curled up on the other side with her favorite blanket. On the walls hung family photos and pretty frames. Pictures from the beach, from Rachel’s birthday parties, from their trip to the mountains last summer. In every photo, they were smiling. They were happy.

Rachel’s mother, Grace, was the kind of person who made everyone feel special. She had warm brown eyes and a smile that could light up the darkest room. She worked from home as a writer, creating children’s books that taught kids important lessons about being kind and brave. Every morning, she would wake up early and make breakfast for the family. Sometimes pancakes shaped like animals. Sometimes French toast with strawberries, always something delicious.

Rachel’s father, Gideon, was tall and strong with gentle hands and a deep voice. He worked as an engineer at a big company downtown designing bridges and buildings. Every evening when he came home, he would swing Rachel up in the air and say, “How’s my little princess?” Then he would kiss Grace and ask about her day.

They weren’t rich like the people in fancy magazines, but they had enough. They had love. They had laughter. They had each other and they had a neighbor named Glattis. Glattis lived alone in an apartment three floors below theirs. She had moved into the building two years ago and Grace had been the first person to welcome her. Grace had knocked on Glattis’s door with a plate of homemade cookies and a warm smile.

“Hi, I’m Grace from upstairs. I thought you might like some cookies while you’re settling in.”

From that day on, Glattis became part of their lives. At first, it seemed nice. Glattis would come up for coffee. She would help Grace carry groceries. She would babysit Rachel when mom and dad went out for their monthly date night. Everyone thought Glattis was wonderful, helpful, kind, always there when you needed her. But Rachel noticed things that the grown-ups didn’t see. She noticed how Glattis would stare at their family photos with a strange look in her eyes. Not happy, not sad, but something else, something hungry. She noticed how Glattis always touched mom’s things. Her coffee mug, her favorite sweater, her reading glasses, like she was trying to remember what they felt like. She noticed how Glattis would watch dad when he came home from work. Her eyes following him around the room.

But Rachel was only 9 years old. She didn’t have the words to explain what she felt. She just knew that sometimes when Glattis smiled, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. And that made Rachel feel uncomfortable. Like when you know a storm is coming, but you can’t see the clouds yet.

One Saturday morning, everything seemed normal. The sun was shining through the kitchen windows. Rachel sat at the breakfast table, swinging her legs back and forth. Her feet didn’t quite touch the floor yet.

“Mommy, can you make your special chocolate chip pancakes?” Rachel asked.

Grace turned from the stove with a big smile. “Of course, sweetie. Coming right up.”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Dad called from the living room.

A moment later, Glattis walked into the kitchen carrying a basket covered with a cloth.

“Good morning, everyone,” Glattis said brightly. “I made some fresh muffins this morning and thought I’d share.”

“Oh, Glattis, you’re so thoughtful,” Mom said, giving her friend a hug. “Stay for breakfast.”

“Well, if you insist,” Glattis said, already sitting down at the table.

As they ate, Glattis kept looking around the kitchen with that strange expression again. “You have such a perfect life, Grace,” she said softly. “A wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter, this lovely home. You’re so lucky.”

Mom reached over and squeezed Glattis’s hand. “Your time will come, Glattis. You deserve happiness, too.”

But Rachel saw something flicker across Glattis’s face. Something dark and angry before the sweet smile returned. That afternoon, after Glattis left, something happened that Rachel would remember forever. Mom sat down next to Rachel on the blue couch. She took both of Rachel’s hands and hers and looked into her eyes very seriously.

“Rachel, honey, I need to tell you something important.”

“What is it, Mommy?”

“Always speak the truth, even when it’s hard.” Mom’s voice was firm but gentle. “Promise me. No matter what happens, no matter who tries to stop you, always tell the truth. Even if people don’t believe you at first, even if you’re scared, the truth is the most powerful thing in the world.”

“I promise, Mommy,” Rachel said, confused about why her mother seemed so serious.

Mom hugged her tight, and Rachel felt her mother’s heart beating fast. “Good girl. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you, too, mommy.”

Rachel didn’t know why her mother said those things that day. She didn’t know that in just a few weeks, those words would become the most important promise she ever made. She didn’t know that darkness was already creeping into their perfect life. And she didn’t know that the person bringing that darkness wore a sweet smile and brought muffins on Saturday mornings.

2 weeks after that Saturday morning conversation, something terrible started to happen. It began on a Tuesday evening. Rachel was doing her homework at the dining table when she heard a strange sound from the kitchen. It was Mom, and she was coughing.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Rachel called out.

Grace came out of the kitchen, her face a little pale. She smiled, but it looked tired. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Maybe you should rest,” Dad said, looking up from his laptop with concern.

“It’s nothing really. Probably just tired from working on my new book.” Mom ruffled Rachel’s hair as she walked past. “Don’t worry about me.”

But the next day, it got worse. Rachel woke up to find Dad making breakfast instead of mom. He was burning the toast, and the eggs looked funny. Not like the perfect breakfast mom always made.

“Where’s mommy?” Rachel asked.

“She’s not feeling well, princess. She’s resting in bed.” Dad’s voice sounded worried even though he tried to smile.

After school that day, Rachel quietly opened her parents’ bedroom door. Mom was lying in bed and she looked so tired. Her skin didn’t have its usual glow. There were dark circles under her eyes.

“Hi, baby.” Mom whispered, trying to smile.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Rachel climbed onto the bed and curled up next to her mother.

“Just a little sick, that’s all. The doctor says it’s probably stress. I’ll be better soon.” Mom stroked Rachel’s hair, but her hand felt weak.

That evening, the doorbell rang. It was Glattis.

“I heard Grace isn’t feeling well,” Glattis said, carrying bags of groceries. “I thought I’d help out. You know how it is. You both work so hard. Let me cook dinner and take care of things.”

“That’s very kind of you, Glattis,” Dad said, looking relieved. “We really appreciate it.”

From that day on, Glattis came every single day. She would arrive in the morning with fresh bread or soup. She would clean the apartment while dad was at work. She would cook dinner and make sure mom ate something. She would even help Rachel with her homework. Everyone said how lucky they were to have such a good friend.

“Glattis is a blessing,” the neighbors said.

“What would you do without her?” Dad’s co-workers asked.

Even mom would say, “I don’t know what we do without Glattis. She’s been such a help.”

But Rachel noticed things. She noticed that mom only got worse, never better. She noticed that mom seemed sickest after eating the special soups that Glattis made just for her. She noticed how Glattis had started rearranging things in their apartment, moving the pictures on the shelf, changing where the coffee mugs went, sitting in mom’s favorite chair at the dining table. She noticed how Glattis would touch Dad’s arm when she talked to him now, and how she called him Gideon instead of Mr. Gideon like she used to.

One afternoon, Rachel came home from school early because her teacher was sick. She walked into the apartment quietly and she heard Glattis talking on her phone in the kitchen. Glattis didn’t know Rachel was there.

“I’m telling you, it won’t be much longer,” Glattis was saying in a low voice. “She’s getting weaker every day. And when she’s gone, yes, he’ll need someone. Who else would it be? I’m already practically living here. The girl likes me. It’s perfect.”

Rachel’s heart started beating fast. What did Glattis mean? When who was gone? She tiptoed backward and left the apartment, then came back in loudly. “I’m home,” she called out.

Glattis appeared from the kitchen with her usual sweet smile. “Hello, Rachel. You’re home early. How about some cookies and milk?”

Rachel nodded, but inside her stomach felt twisted like a pretzel. That night, she tried to tell Dad what she heard.

“Daddy, I heard Miss Glattis talking on the phone and she said…”

“Not now, princess,” Dad interrupted, rubbing his tired eyes. “I have to take your mother to the doctor again tomorrow. They’re running more tests.”

“But Daddy…”

“Rachel, please. I can’t handle anything else right now.”

Rachel felt frustrated. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to her? The doctors ran test after test. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with mom. They said it might be her heart. They said it might be stress. They said it might be a virus. They gave her medicines, but nothing helped. Mom got thinner. Her beautiful smile became tired. She couldn’t write her stories anymore. Some days she was too weak to even get out of bed. And Glattis was always there.

She would bring special tea for mom. “This will help you feel better, Grace,” she would say in her gentle voice.

She would make special soup. “I made this just for you with all your favorite ingredients.”

She would fluff mom’s pillows and bring her magazines and sit with her for hours. Everyone thought she was wonderful. But Rachel watched and she remembered what she heard on the phone. And deep inside, a terrible thought was growing, like a dark seed planted in her mind. What if Glattis wasn’t helping mom get better? What if she was making mom worse?

But that was crazy, wasn’t it? Grown-ups didn’t do things like that. And besides, Glattis was mom’s best friend. Best friends don’t hurt each other. Rachel tried to push the thought away. She tried to tell herself she was being silly, that she was just scared because mom was sick. But the thought wouldn’t go away.

One night, 3 weeks after mom first got sick, something happened that changed everything. Rachel woke up in the middle of the night because she heard voices. She got out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway. The apartment was dark except for a light coming from the kitchen. She peeked around the corner. Glattis was there alone in the kitchen. She was stirring something in a pot on the stove. Mom’s special soup that she always made when mom couldn’t eat anything else.

But then Rachel saw something that made her freeze. Glattis reached into her purse and pulled out a small brown bottle. She looked around quickly like she was checking to make sure no one was watching. Then she unscrewed the cap and poured something from the bottle into the soup. Just a little bit. Then she stirred it and put the bottle back in her purse. Rachel’s heart was pounding so loud she thought Glattis would hear it. Glattis nodded with satisfaction and then poured the soup into a bowl. Then she walked toward mom and dad’s bedroom.

Rachel ran back to her room as quietly as she could and jumped into bed, pulling the covers over her head. She was shaking. What was in that bottle? Why did Glattis put it in mom’s soup? Why did she look around to make sure no one was watching? Rachel lay awake for hours, her mind racing. She wanted to tell dad, but what would she say? That she saw Glattis put something in the soup? Dad would probably say it was medicine or vitamins or something to help mom feel better. But why would Glattis hide it? Why would she look so sneaky?

The next morning, mom ate the soup for breakfast. By lunchtime, she was worse than ever. She could barely lift her head from the pillow.

“We need to take her to the hospital,” Dad said, his voice shaking with fear.

They rushed mom to the emergency room. Doctors and nurses ran around. They hooked mom up to machines that beeped and flashed. They gave her medicines through tubes in her arm. Rachel sat in the waiting room with Dad, holding his hand tight. Dad’s hand was cold and shaking. Glattis came to the hospital, too. She brought coffee for Dad and a stuffed bear for Rachel.

“Everything will be okay,” she said softly, sitting next to Dad. “Grace is strong. She’ll pull through.”

But when Glattis looked at Rachel, there was something in her eyes that made Rachel’s skin crawl. It was there for just a second. A cold, hard look before the sweet smile came back. The doctors came out after 2 hours. They looked serious and sad.

“We’re doing everything we can,” the main doctor said, “but her heart is very weak. We’re not sure why. All the tests show something is wrong, but we can’t pinpoint exactly what.”

“Will she be okay?” Dad’s voice cracked.

“We’re going to keep her here and monitor her closely. The next 24 hours are critical.”

Rachel felt like she couldn’t breathe. Critical. That was a scary word. They let them see mom for a few minutes. She was sleeping with tubes and wires everywhere. She looked so small in that big hospital bed.

“Mommy,” Rachel whispered, tears running down her face. “Please don’t leave me.”

Mom’s eyes opened just a little bit. She tried to smile. Her hand moved weakly and Rachel grabbed it.

“I love you, baby.” Mom whispered. “Remember, tell the truth always.”

Then her eyes closed again. Those were the last words Rachel’s mother ever said to her. The hospital machines beeped steadily through the night. Beep beep beep. Like a heartbeat that refused to give up. Rachel had fallen asleep in the chair next to mom’s bed, holding her hand. Dad sat on the other side, his head in his hands. He hadn’t slept at all. Glattis had gone home around midnight, saying she would come back first thing in the morning with fresh clothes and breakfast for everyone.

At 4:17 in the morning, everything changed. The steady beeping suddenly became one long continuous sound. Rachel jerked awake.

“Mommy!”

Nurses rushed into the room. Then doctors, they pushed Dad and Rachel out into the hallway. “Please wait outside,” a nurse said firmly but kindly.

Through the small window in the door, Rachel could see them working on mom. They were moving fast, doing things with machines, injecting medicines, pressing on mom’s chest. Dad pulled Rachel close, holding her so tight she could barely breathe. They stood there in the bright white hallway, and Rachel could feel Dad’s body shaking. Time moved strangely. It felt like hours, but maybe it was only minutes. Finally, the main doctor came out. His face told them everything before he even opened his mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. “We did everything we could. Her heart just gave out. She’s gone.”

Dad made a sound that Rachel had never heard before, like a wounded animal. He fell to his knees right there in the hospital hallway, and Rachel fell with him. They held each other and cried. Mom was gone. The doctor was saying other words, something about heart failure and unexplained. And sometimes these things happen, but Rachel couldn’t really hear him. Everything sounded far away, like she was underwater. They let them go back into the room to say goodbye.

Mom looked peaceful now, like she was just sleeping, but Rachel knew she wasn’t sleeping. Sleeping people wake up. Mom would never wake up again.

“I love you, Mommy,” Rachel whispered, kissing her mother’s cold hand. “I won’t forget. I’ll tell the truth just like you said. I promise.”

When Glattis arrived at the hospital an hour later with coffee and muffins, Dad told her the news. Glattis dropped the bag she was carrying. The muffins scattered across the floor.

“No,” Glattis said, putting her hand over her mouth. “No, not Grace. Oh, Gideon, I’m so sorry.”

She hugged Dad and he cried on her shoulder. To everyone watching, it looked like a friend comforting another friend. But Rachel saw something different. She saw Glattis’s face over Dad’s shoulder. And for just one second, just one tiny second, Rachel saw Glattis smile. It was quick like lightning. Then her face went back to looking sad and shocked. But Rachel had seen it. She had seen Glattis smile when she heard that mom was dead. That’s when Rachel knew for sure Glattis had killed her mother.

3 days later, they had the funeral. The funeral home was full of people. Neighbors, friends, people from dad’s work, people from the building. Everyone wore black. Everyone cried. Everyone said the same things. She was so young. Such a tragedy. That poor family. Mom lay in a white coffin surrounded by flowers. She was wearing her favorite blue dress and someone had done her makeup so she looked like she was just sleeping. Rachel kept thinking she would open her eyes and sit up and say this was all a mistake, but she didn’t.

Pastor Mike from the church down the street said nice things about mom. He talked about how she was kind and loving. He talked about how she wrote books that made children happy. He talked about how she was now in heaven with God. But Rachel couldn’t listen. All she could think about was that brown bottle and the soup and Glattis’s secret smile at the hospital. Glattis sat in the front row with the family right next to Dad. She dabbed at her eyes with tissues and held Dad’s hand when he cried. She wore a simple black dress and had her hair pulled back. She looked like the perfect picture of a grieving best friend.

After the funeral, everyone went back to their apartment for the reception. Neighbors had brought food, casseroles, and sandwiches and cakes and cookies. The apartment was packed with people talking quietly and eating and telling stories about mom. Glattis took charge of everything. She greeted people at the door. She made sure everyone had food and drinks. She organized the kitchen. She was everywhere helping with everything.

“Glattis has been such a blessing,” someone said.

“I don’t know what they do without her,” another person replied.

“She’s like family now,” a neighbor added.

Rachel sat in the corner of the living room on the blue couch, the same couch where they used to watch movies every Friday night. She watched Glattis move through the apartment like she owned it. She watched her touch things that belonged to mom. She watched her stand close to Dad, touching his arm, whispering comforting words. Aunt Margaret, mom’s older sister, sat down next to Rachel. She had flown in from across the country for the funeral. She had mom’s same brown eyes, but they were red from crying.

“How are you holding up, sweetie?” Aunt Margaret asked softly.

Rachel wanted to tell her everything. She wanted to say that Glattis killed mom, that she saw her put something in the soup, that something was very wrong. But the words got stuck in her throat. What if no one believed her? What if they thought she was just a sad little girl making up stories because she couldn’t accept that her mother was gone?

“I’m okay,” Rachel lied.

Aunt Margaret hugged her. “Your mom loved you so much. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“If you ever need to talk about anything, anything at all, you can call me day or night.”

“Okay.” Rachel nodded.

That night, after everyone left and the apartment was finally quiet, Rachel heard dad crying in his bedroom. It was a terrible sound and it made her chest hurt. She got out of bed and walked down the hallway. The apartment felt different now, like all the happiness had been sucked out of it. The family photos on the walls looked sad. Even the furniture seemed sad. She stood outside Dad’s bedroom door, not sure if she should go in. Then she heard another voice. Glattis was still there.

“It’s going to be okay, Gideon,” Glattis was saying softly. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but time will heal this pain. And you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you and Rachel.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” Dad said through his tears. “How do I raise Rachel alone? How do I go to work? How do I even breathe?”

“One day at a time,” Glattis said. “And you’re not alone. Let me help you. Let me be here for you both. Grace would want that. She’d want me to take care of her family.”

Rachel felt anger burning in her chest. Grace would not want that. Grace would not want the person who killed her to take care of her family. She pushed open the door. Both Dad and Glattis turned to look at her.

“Rachel, honey, what’s wrong?” Dad asked, wiping his eyes.

“I want Miss Glattis to leave,” Rachel said, her voice shaking.

“Rachel…” Dad looked shocked. “That’s not…”

“I don’t want her here,” Rachel’s voice got louder. “She doesn’t belong here.”

Glattis stood up with a hurt expression on her face. “Oh, Rachel, I know you’re upset, sweetheart. You’re angry because your mother is gone. That’s normal. It’s okay to be angry.”

“I’m not angry at mommy,” Rachel shouted. “I’m angry at you.”

“Rachel Marie Thompson.” Dad used his stern voice. “Apologize to Miss Glattis right now. She’s been nothing but kind to us.”

But Rachel couldn’t apologize. She wouldn’t apologize. Instead, she turned and ran back to her room, slamming the door behind her. She threw herself on her bed and cried into her pillow. She cried for mom. She cried because no one would listen to her. She cried because the bad person was winning and the good person was gone.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on her door. “Rachel.” It was Glattis’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

But Glattis opened the door anyway. She came in and sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed. Rachel pulled away from her.

“I know you’re hurting,” Glattis said in her gentle fake voice. “Losing your mother is the hardest thing that can ever happen to a little girl. But pushing away the people who love you won’t bring her back.”

Rachel turned to glare at her. “You didn’t love her.”

Glattis’s smile flickered for just a second. “Of course, I did. Grace was my best friend.”

“No, she wasn’t. You’re lying. You’re a liar, and I hate you.”

Glattis’s face changed. The sweet, sad expression disappeared, and something cold and hard took its place. She leaned in close to Rachel and whispered so quietly that only Rachel could hear. “Listen to me, you little brat. Your mother is gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your father needs me now. This family needs me. And if you try to cause trouble, if you try to turn your father against me, you’ll regret it. Do you understand?”

Rachel’s blood turned to ice. This was the real Glattis, the one she’d always sensed was hiding under the sweet smile.

Before Rachel could respond, Dad appeared at the doorway. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

Glattis’s face transformed instantly back to sweet and caring. “Everything’s fine. I was just telling Rachel that it’s okay to be sad and angry. Aren’t I right, sweetie?” She smiled at Rachel, a smile that looked friendly, but had a warning in it.

Rachel knew right then that she was in danger. Not the kind of danger where someone jumps out and grabs you, but a quieter, scarier kind of danger. The kind where the monster wears a friendly face.

“Yes,” Rachel whispered. Because what else could she say?

“Good girl,” Glattis said, patting her head. Then she stood up. “I should get going. It’s late, but I’ll be back tomorrow to help with things.”

“Okay, Gideon. Thank you, Glattis,” Dad said tiredly. “I don’t know what we do without you.”

After Glattis left, Dad came and sat on Rachel’s bed. “Princess, I know this is hard, but you need to be nice to Miss Glattis. She’s trying to help us.”

Rachel wanted to scream. She wanted to tell Dad everything about the bottle, about the soup, about the threat Glattis just made. But she looked at Dad’s tired, sad face and couldn’t find the words. He wouldn’t believe her anyway. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

“Okay, Daddy,” she whispered.

Dad kissed her forehead and left her alone. Rachel lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Mom’s words echoed in her mind. “Always speak the truth, even when it’s hard.” But how could she speak the truth when no one would listen?

The days after the funeral blurred together like watercolors in the rain. Rachel would wake up each morning and for just a moment forget that mom was gone. Then reality would crash down on her like a wave, and the pain would start all over again. And every single day, Glattis was there. She came early in the morning with fresh bread and coffee. She stayed late into the evening cooking dinner and cleaning up. She did the laundry. She organized mom’s things. She slowly, carefully started to take over their lives.

Dad seemed grateful. He was lost in his own grief, barely able to function. He went to work like a robot, came home exhausted, and let Glattis handle everything else.

“Thank God for Glattis,” he said one night at dinner. “I don’t think we could survive this without her.”

Rachel pushed her food around on her plate and said nothing. The changes started small. One day, Rachel came home from school and noticed that mom’s favorite coffee mug, the blue one with little yellow flowers, was in the cabinet instead of on its usual shelf by the coffee maker. Glattis was using it. Another day, the family photos on the living room shelf had been rearranged. Some of mom’s pictures were moved to the back, harder to see. Then Glattis started bringing her own things to the apartment. A sweater left on the coat rack, slippers by the door, her special brand of tea in the kitchen cabinet.

“I’m here so much it just makes sense to keep a few things here,” Glattis explained with a laugh when dad noticed.

2 weeks after the funeral, Rachel walked past her parents’ bedroom and stopped. The door was open and she could see inside. Glattis was in there going through mom’s closet.

“What are you doing?” Rachel demanded, marching into the room.

Glattis turned around holding one of mom’s dresses. “Oh, Rachel, your father asked me to help sort through your mother’s things. Some of these clothes can be donated to people who need them.”

“Those are my mom’s clothes. You can’t touch them.”

“Sweetheart, your mother isn’t coming back. These clothes are just sitting here. Someone else could use them.”

“No.” Rachel grabbed the dress from Glattis’s hands. “Put them back. Put everything back.”

Dad came running into the room. “What’s going on, Rachel? Why are you yelling?”

“She’s going through mommy’s things.”

“I asked her to help me, princess,” Dad said gently. “I can’t. I can’t do it alone. It’s too hard.”

“But Daddy, it’s too soon. We can’t get rid of mommy’s things.”

Dad knelt down in front of Rachel. “I know it’s hard, but keeping all these things won’t bring her back. And Glattis is right. Someone else could use them.”

Rachel felt like she was drowning. Everything that was Mom’s was disappearing, and Glattis was making it happen.

“I hate her,” Rachel screamed. “I hate her and I want her to leave.”

“Rachel Marie Thompson.” Dad’s voice was sharp. “Go to your room now.”

Rachel ran to her room, tears streaming down her face. She slammed the door and threw herself on the bed. A few minutes later, she heard Dad and Glattis talking in the hallway.

“I’m sorry about that,” Dad was saying. “She’s just processing her grief.”

“Don’t apologize, Gideon,” Glattis replied. “It’s completely normal. She sees me taking her mother’s place in some ways, and she’s angry about it. Children often lash out at the people trying to help them.”

“I don’t know what to do. She’s never acted like this before.”

“Maybe she needs to talk to someone. A therapist, perhaps? Someone who specializes in childhood grief.”

“You might be right. In the meantime, I’ll give her some space.”

“But Gideon, you can’t let her push me away. You need help right now. Rachel will understand eventually.”

Rachel pressed her ear against the door, her heart pounding.

“You’re right,” Dad said with a sigh. “Thank you for being so patient with us.”

“Of course, that’s what family does.”

Family? Rachel wanted to scream. Glattis wasn’t family. That night, Rachel couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about that brown bottle she’d seen Glattis put in mom’s soup. Where was that bottle now? Did Glattis still have it? An idea formed in her mind. It was risky and probably wrong, but she had to know the truth. She had to find that bottle.

The next day after school, Rachel knew Glattis would be at the apartment. She always was. But maybe, just maybe, Rachel could find a moment to search Glattis’s purse. She came home and found Glattis in the kitchen making dinner. Glattis’s big black purse sat on the counter.

“Hi, Rachel,” Glattis said with her fake sweet voice. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Rachel mumbled.

“I’m making spaghetti for dinner. Your favorite, right?”

Rachel didn’t answer. She went to her room and pretended to do homework, but she was really waiting. Finally, she heard the shower turn on in the guest bathroom. Glattis always took a shower before dad came home so she’d look fresh and nice. This was Rachel’s chance. She crept out of her room and into the kitchen. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode. She looked at Glattis’s purse. What if Glattis caught her? What if dad came home early? But she had to know.

With shaking hands, Rachel opened the purse and looked inside. There was a wallet, some makeup, tissues, hand sanitizer, keys, breath mints, and there at the bottom was a small brown bottle. Rachel pulled it out carefully. The label said digitalis. She didn’t know what that word meant, but she knew this was the bottle. This was what Glattis had put in mom’s soup.

The shower was still running. Rachel made a quick decision. She shoved the bottle into her pocket and ran to her room. She hid it in her desk drawer under some old drawings and homework papers. Her whole body was shaking. She’d stolen something. Mom and dad always taught her that stealing was wrong. But this was evidence. This could prove that Glattis hurt mom.

She heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later, Glattis came out of the bathroom, her hair wet and combed back. Rachel stayed in her room, her heart still racing. Would Glattis notice the bottle was missing? Dinner that night was tense. Dad tried to make conversation, but Rachel barely spoke. She kept glancing at Glattis, waiting for her to say something about the missing bottle, but Glattis acted normal. She smiled and laughed and served spaghetti like nothing was wrong.

After dinner, Rachel went back to her room. She pulled out the bottle and stared at it. Digitalis, what was it? She needed to know, but she couldn’t just ask Dad. He’d want to know why she was asking and where she got the bottle. Then she remembered Aunt Margaret. Mom’s sister had told her she could call anytime. Rachel found the phone number Aunt Margaret had written down and saved it in her desk. She waited until Dad was watching TV and Glattis had gone home for the night. Then she quietly called from the phone in mom’s old office.

“Hello,” Aunt Margaret’s voice sounded surprised. “Rachel, is everything okay?”

“Aunt Margaret, I need to ask you something. What is digitalis?” Rachel sounded out the word carefully.

There was a pause. “Digitalis. That’s a medicine made from a plant called fox glove. It’s used for heart problems. Why are you asking about that?”

Rachel’s mouth went dry. Heart problems. Mom died of heart failure.

“Can it hurt people?” Rachel asked quietly.

“Well, in the right dose, it helps people with heart conditions. But too much can be very dangerous. It can poison someone and make their heart stop. Rachel, why are you asking these questions?”

Rachel’s hands started shaking. “I… I found a bottle of it in someone’s purse.”

“Whose purse?”

“Miss Glattis. She’s mommy’s friend. She was always making mommy soup and I saw her put something in it from a brown bottle. And now I found the bottle and it says digitalis in…”

“Slow down, honey. Take a breath.” Aunt Margaret’s voice became very serious. “You’re saying you saw Glattis put something from a bottle into your mother’s food?”

“Yes. The night before mommy went to the hospital, I saw her do it. She didn’t know I was watching.”

Aunt Margaret was quiet for a long moment. “Rachel, this is very serious. Where is this bottle now?”

“In my room. I took it from her purse today.”

“Listen to me very carefully. I want you to keep that bottle safe and hidden. Don’t tell anyone else about it yet, not even your father. And don’t let Glattis know you have it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to make some calls. I still have some of your mother’s medical records and samples the hospital saved. There are tests we can run. But Rachel, I need you to be brave a little longer. Can you do that?”

“I promised Mommy I would always tell the truth.” Rachel whispered.

“Good girl. Your mother would be so proud of you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Okay, maybe in a few days. Until then, be careful. Don’t let Glattis know you suspect anything.”

After they hung up, Rachel felt a tiny bit of hope for the first time since mom died. Aunt Margaret believed her. Aunt Margaret was going to help, but she also felt scared. What if Glattis found out? What if something happened before Aunt Margaret could get there?

That night, Rachel had a nightmare. In the dream, she was at mom’s funeral again, but when she looked in the coffin, it wasn’t mom lying there. It was Rachel herself. And Glattis was standing over her, smiling and holding a brown bottle. She woke up screaming.

Dad came running into her room. “Princess, what’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream!” Rachel sobbed.

Dad held her until she stopped crying. “It’s okay. It’s just a dream. Everything’s going to be okay.”

But Rachel knew it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. And in three more weeks, it would be 1 month since mom died. That’s when they would have the memorial service, the big one where everyone would come to remember mom. Rachel didn’t know it yet, but that memorial service would change everything.

3 days after Rachel called Aunt Margaret, something unexpected happened. Rachel came home from school to find Aunt Margaret sitting in the living room with Dad. Her suitcase was by the door.

“Aunt Margaret.” Rachel ran to her and hugged her tight.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Aunt Margaret said, holding her close. She smelled like lavender and home and safety.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Dad said, looking tired, but glad to see his sister-in-law. “You should have told me. I would have picked you up from the airport.”

“It was a last minute decision,” Aunt Margaret said smoothly. “I’ve been thinking about you both and I realized you shouldn’t be alone during this time. Grace was my baby sister. Her family is my family.”

Dad’s eyes got watery. “We’d love to have you stay with us.”

“Where’s Glattis?” Aunt Margaret asked looking around.

“She’s at her apartment. She usually comes up around 5:00 to help with dinner.”

“Actually, Gideon, I’d like to cook dinner tonight. Just family. Would that be okay?”

Dad looked surprised but nodded. “Of course, that would be… that would be nice.”

When Glattis showed up at 5:00 with grocery bags, she was not happy to find Aunt Margaret there.

“Margaret, what a surprise,” Glattis said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It was sudden,” Aunt Margaret replied coolly. “I decided my niece and brother-in-law need family around them.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. I brought ingredients for… actually I’ve already started dinner, but thank you, Glattis.”

There was a moment of tension in the air. Rachel watched both women carefully.

“Well, then I suppose I’ll just head home,” Glattis said, her voice a bit sharp. “Unless you need help with anything, Gideon.”

“We’re fine tonight, Glattis,” Dad said. “But thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Glattis’s jaw tightened, but she kept smiling. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

After she left, Aunt Margaret turned to Dad. “Gideon, how often is Glattis here?”

“Every day,” Dad admitted. “She’s been helping with everything. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of Rachel. I don’t know what we would have done without her.”

Aunt Margaret’s expression darkened, but she didn’t say anything more. That night, after Dad went to bed, Aunt Margaret came to Rachel’s room.

“Do you still have the bottle?” she whispered.

Rachel nodded and pulled it from her desk drawer. Aunt Margaret examined it carefully, holding it up to the light. Her face was grim.

“This is definitely digitalis. No one should have this unless they have a heart condition. And I know for a fact that Glattis doesn’t have any heart problems.”

“What does it mean?” Rachel asked.

“It means,” Aunt Margaret said slowly, “that we need to be very careful. I’ve been making calls. I contacted the hospital and got copies of your mother’s medical records. I also arranged for some of the blood samples they saved to be retested by an independent lab.”

“Will that show if mommy was poisoned? If there was digitalis in her system when she died?”

“Yes, the test results should be ready in about a week.”

“That’s so long,” Rachel said sadly.

“I know, honey, but we have to do this, right? If Glattis really did hurt your mother, we need proof. Real proof that will hold up in court.”

“Court?”

“Yes. If she killed your mother, she needs to go to jail. But first, we need evidence.”

Rachel thought about something. “Aunt Margaret, what if she tries to hurt Daddy next or me?”

Aunt Margaret’s face became very serious. “That’s why I’m staying here. I’m going to watch her like a hawk. She won’t get the chance to hurt anyone else. I promise you that.”

Over the next week, things in the apartment became tense. Glattis still came everyday, but now Aunt Margaret was always there, too. The two women circled each other like cats, each trying to be pleasant, but clearly not liking each other.

“I can handle the cooking, Glattis,” Aunt Margaret would say.

“I’ve been taking care of this family for weeks,” Glattis would reply. “I know their routines. I’m family. They’re my responsibility now. Grace would have wanted me to help.”

“I’m Grace’s sister. I think I know what Grace would have wanted.”

Dad seemed confused by the tension, but was too lost in his grief to really notice what was happening. Rachel watched everything carefully. She noticed that Glattis was getting frustrated. She wasn’t able to be alone with dad as much. She couldn’t rearrange things or go through mom’s belongings without Aunt Margaret watching. She couldn’t cook special meals for the family anymore.

One afternoon, Rachel overheard Glattis on the phone again. She was in the guest bathroom thinking no one could hear her.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Glattis hissed into the phone. “That sister won’t leave. She’s ruining everything. I’ve worked too hard to let her ruin my plans now. No, I can’t just wait. The memorial is in 2 weeks. After that, things will settle down and I need to be established as part of this family by then. Yes, I know it’s risky, but what choice do I have?”

Rachel’s blood ran cold. What was Glattis planning? She ran to find Aunt Margaret and told her what she’d heard. Aunt Margaret’s face became very serious.

“We need those test results faster. I’m going to make some calls.”

The next day, Aunt Margaret announced she needed to run some errands in the city. “I’ll be back by dinner,” she told Dad. “Will you two be okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” Dad said. “Glattis will be here soon anyway.”

After Aunt Margaret left, Rachel felt nervous. She didn’t want to be alone with Glattis, even with dad in the apartment. Sure enough, at 3:00, Glattis arrived. But this time, she wasn’t carrying groceries or supplies. She was carrying a small box wrapped in pretty paper.

“Rachel,” she said with a sweet smile that made Rachel’s skin crawl. “I got you something. A gift.”

“I don’t want it,” Rachel said.

“Don’t be rude, princess,” Dad said from the couch where he was reading. “At least see what it is.”

Reluctantly, Rachel took the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace with a heart-shaped locket.

“Open the locket,” Glattis urged.

Rachel opened it. Inside was a tiny picture of Glattis on one side and a picture of mom on the other side.

“I thought you might like to wear it,” Glattis said. “To keep both of us close to your heart.”

Rachel felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want Glattis’s picture anywhere near Mom’s picture. She didn’t want anything from Glattis.

“Thank you,” she forced herself to say because dad was watching.

“Why don’t you put it on?” Glattis suggested.

“Maybe later.”

“Oh, come on. Let me help you.” Glattis reached for the necklace.

“No.” Rachel jerked away. “I said later.”

“Rachel.” Dad stood up. “What has gotten into you? Glattis gave you a beautiful gift and you’re being incredibly rude.”

“I don’t want her gifts.” Rachel shouted. “I don’t want her here. I want her to leave and never come back.”

Dad’s face turned red with anger. “That’s enough. Go to your room now.”

Rachel ran to her room and slammed the door. She threw the necklace in her trash can. She would never wear it. Never. She heard Dad apologizing to Glattis in the living room.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Dad was saying. “She’s never been like this before.”

“It’s okay, Gideon,” Glattis said in her sickeningly sweet voice. “She’s grieving. She sees me as a threat, as someone trying to replace her mother. It’s a natural reaction.”

“But Grace loved you. She’d want Rachel to let you help us.”

“I know. And in time, Rachel will understand. We just need to be patient with her.”

Rachel pressed her pillow over her head, trying not to scream. Hours later, Aunt Margaret came home. She knocked softly on Rachel’s door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Aunt Margaret sat on the bed and handed Rachel a folder. “I have news. The lab rushed the test. Rachel, they found digitalis in your mother’s blood. High levels. Levels that could only have gotten there if someone was giving it to her regularly over several weeks.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “So, it’s true. Glattis really did kill Mommy.”

“The evidence suggests someone poisoned her. Yes. And you saw Glattis putting something in her food. You have the bottle from Glattis’s purse. It all points to her.”

“What do we do now?”

“I’ve been in contact with a detective. He wants to talk to you about what you saw. But Rachel, this is very important. We need to wait until the memorial service.”

“Why? Why can’t we tell the police right now?”

Aunt Margaret sighed. “Because right now, we have evidence but no confession. A good lawyer might argue that the digitalis got into your mother’s system some other way. But if we confront Glattis publicly in front of everyone with all the evidence, there’s a chance she might confess, especially if she thinks she’s been caught.”

“But what if she runs away?”

“She won’t. She’s too invested in staying close to your father. She thinks she’s going to become part of this family. She won’t leave before she gets what she wants.”

Rachel thought about this. It made sense, but it also meant waiting two more weeks. Two more weeks of pretending everything was normal. Two more weeks of having Glattis in their home, touching mom’s things, smiling her fake smile.

“I can do it,” Rachel said quietly. “I can wait for mommy.”

“That’s my brave girl,” Aunt Margaret said, hugging her. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”

That night, Rachel took out the locket necklace from the trash. She opened it and carefully removed Glattis’s picture, ripping it into tiny pieces. Then she found her own school photo and put it in place of Glattis’s picture. Now the locket had mom on one side and Rachel on the other.

“I’m going to get justice for you, Mommy,” Rachel whispered, holding the locket tight. “I promise. Just two more weeks.”

The next two weeks felt like the longest weeks of Rachel’s life. Every day she had to pretend. She had to be polite to Glattis. She had to act normal. She had to smile when she wanted to cry and stay quiet when she wanted to scream. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Aunt Margaret stayed close, always watching, always protecting. At night, she and Rachel would whisper in Rachel’s room, going over the plan for the memorial service.

“The detective will be there,” Aunt Margaret explained. “He’ll be dressed in regular clothes so Glattis won’t know he’s a police officer. When the time is right, you’ll stand up and tell everyone what you saw. I’ll show them the lab results and then we’ll see what Glattis does.”

“What if she lies?” Rachel asked. “What if she says I’m making it up?”

“That’s why we have the bottle you found, the lab results, and the detective there as a witness. She can lie, but the evidence doesn’t lie.”

“I’m scared,” Rachel admitted.

“I know you are, honey. But you’re also brave. Braver than most adults I know.”

During those two weeks, Glattis became more and more frustrated. With Aunt Margaret always around, she couldn’t have her private moments with dad. She couldn’t go through mom’s things. She couldn’t cook her special meals. Rachel noticed that Glattis was getting sloppy, letting her mask slip more often. One day, when Glattis thought no one was looking, Rachel saw her spray mom’s perfume on herself and smile at her reflection in the hallway mirror. Another time, Rachel caught Glattis trying on one of Mom’s rings that Dad had left on the dresser. And once Rachel heard Glattis on the phone again.

“Just a little longer. After the memorial, the sister will leave. She can’t stay forever. And then everything will go back to my plan.”

But the worst moment came 3 days before the memorial. Rachel came home from school to find Glattis sitting in mom’s favorite chair, the comfy one by the window where mom used to read her books. Glattis was wearing one of mom’s sweaters and she was looking through mom’s photo albums.

“What are you doing?” Rachel demanded.

Glattis looked up, not even bothering to look guilty. “Your father said I could look through these. We’re choosing photos for the memorial service display.”

“That’s mommy’s chair and mommy’s sweater.”

“The sweater was in the donation pile and it’s just a chair. Rachel, get out of it.”

“Excuse me? I said, Get out of my mother’s chair.” Rachel’s voice got louder. “And take off her sweater. You have no right to wear her things or sit in her chair or touch her pictures.”

Glattis stood up slowly. Her face wasn’t sweet anymore. It was cold and hard. “Listen to me, you spoiled little brat,” Glattis said in a low, dangerous voice. “Your mother is dead. This is just a chair and just a sweater. I’m alive. I’m here. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to be part of this family.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, yes, I am. Your father needs me and soon he’ll realize that I can give him everything your mother gave him. Maybe even more. He’ll never love you. Never.” Glattis smiled a cold, cruel smile. “We’ll see about that. Once that nosy sister of yours leaves, once you’re back in school and not around all the time, your father and I will grow closer. It’s already happening. Can’t you see it? The way he relies on me. The way he trusts me.”

“I’ll tell him what you did. I’ll tell him you killed my mom.”

“Go ahead and try,” Glattis said, laughing. “He won’t believe you. No one will believe a sad little girl who’s making up stories because she can’t accept that her mother is gone. They’ll just think you’re crazy.”

Just then, the front door opened. Aunt Margaret walked in carrying grocery bags. She took one look at the scene. Glattis wearing Grace’s sweater, standing over Rachel, who had tears streaming down her face, and her expression turned to ice.

“What’s going on here?” Aunt Margaret asked quietly.

Glattis’s face transformed instantly back to sweet and innocent. “Oh, nothing. Rachel was just upset about me looking at photos for the memorial. I understand. It’s very emotional for her.”

But Aunt Margaret’s eyes were sharp. She’d heard something. Rachel could tell.

“Glattis, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Aunt Margaret said firmly.

“But I need to help with…”

“Handle it. Thank you.”

Glattis’s smile became tight. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

After Glattis left, Aunt Margaret knelt down in front of Rachel. “What did she say to you?”

Rachel told her everything about the chair, the sweater, and Glattis’s threats. Aunt Margaret’s face became like stone. “That woman has no shame. But it’s okay, Rachel. Just three more days. Three more days, and everyone will know the truth.”

That night, Dad asked Rachel to come sit with him in the living room. “Princess, we need to talk,” he said gently.

Rachel sat next to him on the blue couch, nervous about what he might say.

“Aunt Margaret told me you and Glattis had an argument today.”

“She was wearing mommy’s sweater and sitting in mommy’s chair,” Rachel said quietly.

Dad sighed. “I know this is hard for you, but honey, your mother’s things are just things. They’re not her. Your mother lives in here.” He touched Rachel’s chest over her heart. “And in here,” he touched her head. “The things can’t hurt you.”

“But why does she have to wear them? Why does she have to touch them?”

“Because I asked her to go through your mother’s things with me. It’s too painful for me to do alone and Aunt Margaret… well, she gets too emotional. Glattis has been very helpful and practical about it.”

Rachel wanted to scream. Dad didn’t understand. He couldn’t see what Glattis was really doing.

“Daddy.” Rachel said carefully. “Do you… do you like Miss Glattis?”

Dad looked surprised. “Of course, I like her. She’s been a good friend to our family.”

“No, I mean, do you like her like you liked mommy?”

Dad’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, Princess, no one could ever replace your mother. I loved your mother with all my heart. Glattis is just a friend who’s helping us through a hard time.”

“But what if she wants to be more than a friend?”

Dad looked uncomfortable. “Rachel, where is this coming from?”

“I just… I don’t think she’s as nice as she pretends to be.”

Dad pulled Rachel into a hug. “I know you’re worried, but I promise you I’m not looking for someone to replace your mother. No one could ever do that.”

“Okay.” Rachel whispered, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. She’d seen how dad relied on Glattis, how he trusted her, how he defended her. What if Glattis succeeded? What if she really did take mom’s place? Oh, Rachel couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen. The memorial service was in 3 days. 3 days until everyone would know the truth. Rachel could wait three more days.

The morning before the memorial service, the apartment was chaos. People were delivering flowers. The caterer came to discuss the menu for the reception. Aunt Margaret was on the phone coordinating with the church. Dad was getting his suit dry cleaned. And Glattis was everywhere directing everything like she was in charge.

“Put those flowers over there,” she told the delivery man.

“The food should be set up in the corner,” she told the caterer.

“Let me see the program,” she told Aunt Margaret.

Aunt Margaret’s jaw was tight, but she stayed calm. “Everything is under control.”

“Glattis, I just want to make sure it’s perfect. Grace deserves a beautiful memorial.”

“Yes, she does,” Aunt Margaret said pointedly. “And her family will make sure she gets one.”

The tension between the two women was so thick you could cut it with a knife. That afternoon, Rachel and Aunt Margaret went to the church hall where the memorial would be held. They needed to see the space and finalize where everything would go. The hall was big with rows of chairs facing a small stage. At the front would be a table with mom’s picture, candles, and flowers.

“This is where you’ll stand,” Aunt Margaret said, pointing to a spot near the front. “After Glattis gives her speech about your mother, after she does her little performance, that’s when you’ll stand up and speak.”

“What if I can’t do it?” Rachel asked, her voice shaking. “What if I’m too scared?”

Aunt Margaret knelt down and looked into Rachel’s eyes. “Then you think about your mother. You think about how brave she was. You think about how she always told you to speak the truth even when it’s hard. And you find that courage inside you cuz you know what? You’re Grace’s daughter. You have her strength inside you.”

Rachel nodded, tears in her eyes.

“And remember,” Aunt Margaret continued, “I’ll be right there with you. Detective Morrison will be in the audience. Your father will be there. You’re not alone.”

That night, Rachel couldn’t sleep. She kept going over what she would say, how she would say it. She got out of bed and went to mom’s office, the room that no one had changed yet. All of mom’s books were still on the shelves. Her computer was still on the desk. Her reading glasses were still on the side table. Rachel sat in mom’s chair and looked around. She could almost feel mom’s presence here in this quiet room where she’d written so many stories.

“I’m scared, Mommy,” Rachel whispered to the empty room. “What if no one believes me? What if I mess up? What if Glattis wins?”

Of course, there was no answer. But then Rachel’s eyes fell on mom’s journal, the one she kept on her desk. Rachel had never read it before. It felt private, like something that belonged only to mom. But now something made her pick it up. She opened it carefully and flipped through the pages. There were mom’s thoughts about her books, about her day, about funny things Rachel had said.

And then on one of the last pages mom had written, dated just two weeks before she got sick. Rachel found something that made her heart stop. The entry said:

“Something’s been bothering me about Glattis lately. I can’t put my finger on it, but sometimes I catch her looking at Gideon in a way that makes me uncomfortable. And the way she touches our things, arranges our home when I’m not looking. It’s like she’s trying to step into my life instead of building her own. I feel guilty for thinking this way. She’s my friend. She’s been nothing but helpful, but a mother’s instincts are strong, and mine are telling me something isn’t right. I’ve been feeling so tired and sick lately. The doctors can’t find anything wrong, which is frustrating. Part of me wonders if it’s just stress from worrying about Glattis and her strange behavior. If anything ever happens to me, I know my little girl will speak for me. She’s brave like her father and truthful like, well, like I tried to teach her to be. Rachel will always do what’s right, even when it’s hard.”

Rachel read the entry three times, tears streaming down her face. Mom had known. She’d sensed something was wrong with Glattis. And Mom’s last written thoughts were about Rachel, about how brave she was, how she would do what’s right.

“I won’t let you down, Mommy.” Rachel whispered, holding the journal close. “Tomorrow, everyone will know the truth. I promise.”

She carefully tore out that page from the journal and folded it up. She would bring it to the memorial. It was more proof that mom had doubts about Glattis. When Rachel finally went back to bed, she felt different. Still scared, yes, but also determined, strong, ready. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow, Glattis would finally be exposed for what she really was. Tomorrow, justice would come for mom.

The morning of the memorial service, Rachel woke up with butterflies in her stomach. Not the good kind you get on Christmas morning, but the scary kind that make you feel sick. Today was the day. She got dressed in the black dress Aunt Margaret had bought for her. It had long sleeves and came down to her knees. She looked at herself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back. She looked older somehow, sadder. Different.

In her pocket, she had three things. The brown bottle of digitalis, the page from mom’s journal, and mom’s locket with their pictures inside.

“Are you ready?” Aunt Margaret asked, coming into her room.

“I think so,” Rachel said, though her voice shook.

“Remember Detective Morrison will be there. He’ll be the tall man with gray hair sitting in the third row on the left. He’ll be wearing a blue tie. When things get difficult, he’ll step in. You just need to speak your truth.”

“What if dad gets really mad at me?”

Aunt Margaret’s face softened. “He might be confused at first. He might even be angry. But once he sees the evidence, once he understands what really happened, he’ll know you did the right thing. And eventually, he’ll thank you for being brave enough to speak up.”

They arrived at the church hall at noon. The memorial service would start at 2:00, but there was so much to set up. The hall looked beautiful in a sad way. White flowers were everywhere. Long white candles glowed softly. At the front, on a table draped in white cloth, sat a large framed photograph of mom. She was smiling in the picture, her eyes bright and happy. That photo had been taken last Christmas, just 9 months ago, back when everything was perfect.

Rachel stared at mom’s picture and whispered, “This is for you, Mommy.”

People started arriving around 1:30. Neighbors, friends, people from dad’s work, people from church, teachers from Rachel’s school. Everyone wore black. Everyone looked sad. And then Glattis arrived. She wore a beautiful black dress that looked expensive. Her hair was styled perfectly. Her makeup was done just right. She even had tears ready to fall. She looked like the picture of a grieving best friend. She went straight to dad and hugged him.

“How are you holding up, Gideon?” she asked softly.

“As well as can be expected,” Dad said. He looked exhausted. He’d barely slept the night before.

Glattis kept her hand on Dad’s arm. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

Rachel watched from across the room, her hands clenched into fists. Aunt Margaret put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Soon,” she whispered.

At exactly 2:00, the memorial service began. Pastor Mike from the church spoke first. He talked about mom’s kindness, her love for her family, her talent for writing children’s books. He read from the Bible and led everyone in prayer. Then people got up to share memories. Mrs. Chin from Next Door talked about how mom had helped her when she first moved to America, teaching her English and making her feel welcome. Mr. Roberts from Dad’s office talked about how mom always baked cookies for the company Christmas party and how everyone loved her. Rachel’s teacher, Ms. Anderson talked about how mom volunteered at school and helped kids learn to read. Everyone had beautiful things to say. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

Then it was dad’s turn. He walked slowly to the front holding a piece of paper with his speech written on it. But when he got there, he just folded the paper and spoke from his heart.

“Grace was… is the love of my life.” He began his voice breaking. “We met when we were young, and I knew from the first moment that she was special. She made me laugh. She made me think. She made me want to be a better person.” He paused, wiping his eyes. “She was an amazing mother. Rachel, honey, your mom loved you more than anything in this world. Everything she did was for you.”

Rachel felt tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t understand why she was taken from us so soon.” Dad continued. “She was only 34. She had so much life left to live. So many books left to write. So many memories we were supposed to make together. It’s not fair. It’s not right.” His voice got louder with emotion. “But I have to believe that somehow somewhere she’s still with us, watching over us, making sure we’re okay.” He looked directly at Rachel. “And I promise you, Grace, I’ll take care of our little girl. I’ll make sure she grows up knowing how much you loved her. I’ll tell her stories about you everyday. Your memory will live on in this family forever.”

Everyone was crying now. Even some of the men were wiping their eyes. Dad sat back down and Pastor Mike announced that there would be one more speaker. Grace’s best friend, Glattis. This was it. This was the moment they’d been waiting for.

Glattis walked to the front of the room with perfect posture. She dabbed at her eyes with a white tissue. She took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Grace was more than a friend to me,” Glattis said, her voice soft and sad. “She was like the sister I never had. When I moved to this city 2 years ago, I was alone. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t have any family here, but Grace welcomed me with open arms.” She paused dramatically, letting a single tear roll down her cheek. “She invited me into her home. She invited me into her life. She let me be part of her beautiful family, and I will be forever grateful for that.”

People nodded, murmuring in agreement.

“Grace taught me what it means to be kind,” Glattis continued. “What it means to be generous, what it means to love unconditionally. She was the best person I ever knew.”

Rachel’s hands gripped the brown bottle in her pocket so hard her knuckles turned white.

“And now that she’s gone,” Glattis said, her voice breaking perfectly. “I feel like it’s my duty… no, my privilege to honor her memory by taking care of the family she loved so much. Gideon, Rachel, I promise you I will always be here for you. I will help you through this darkness. I will make sure Grace’s love continues to shine in this family.” She paused and looked directly at Dad. “Grace would want me to protect you, to care for you, to be there for you always.”

The room was silent except for the sound of people sniffling and wiping their tears.

“So, I promise you, Grace,” Glattis said, looking up at mom’s picture. “I will take care of them. I will love them like you did. I will make sure your daughter grows up safe and happy. And I will make sure your husband never feels alone.” She raised her glass of water in a toast. “To Grace, may her memory be eternal. May her love live on forever in the hearts of those who knew her.”

“To Grace,” everyone repeated, raising their glasses.

Glattis smiled through her tears, a perfect practice smile. She looked like an angel, like the most caring, devoted friend anyone could ask for. But Rachel knew the truth, and now it was time for everyone else to know it, too.

Rachel stood up. Her legs were shaking. Her heart was pounding like a drum. Boom, boom, boom. Every eye in the room turned to look at her. The hall became completely silent.

“Rachel,” Dad said, confused. “What are you…?”

“You’re lying.” Rachel’s voice rang out clear and strong across the silent room.

Gasps echoed through the hall. People turned to each other in shock. Someone whispered, “What did she say?”

Rachel took a step forward, her eyes locked on Glattis. “You’re not her friend. You didn’t love my mom. You killed her.”

The memorial hall exploded. People started talking all at once. Someone dropped their glass. It shattered on the floor with a loud crash, just like in Rachel’s nightmares. Whispers filled the air like angry bees. What is she talking about? That poor child has lost her mind. Someone stop her. This is inappropriate. Glattis’s face went pale white as paper. Her sweet, sad expression melted away like ice cream in the sun. And for just a moment, one terrible revealing moment, Rachel saw something dark and terrible flash in her eyes. Pure panic. And underneath that rage.

“Gideon,” Glattis said, her voice shaking. “Your daughter is clearly disturbed. This grief has made her confused. We should get her out of here.”

“No,” Rachel shouted. She pulled the brown bottle from her pocket and held it up high so everyone could see. “I have proof. I saw you put this in my mom’s soup. The night before she went to the hospital, you poisoned her.”

The room erupted again. Now people were standing up, moving closer, trying to see what Rachel was holding. Dad stood up, his face a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Rachel Marie Thompson, what are you doing? Sit down right now.”

But Aunt Margaret stood up, too. She walked to the front of the room and stood next to Rachel, her hand on her niece’s shoulder.

“She’s telling the truth, Gideon,” Aunt Margaret said loudly so everyone could hear. “I had Grace’s blood samples retested by an independent lab. The results came back 3 days ago.” She pulled an envelope from her purse and held it up. “Grace didn’t die of natural causes. She was poisoned. Slowly over several weeks, someone gave her digitalis, a heart medication that in high doses causes heart failure. The same medication that’s in this bottle.” She pointed to the bottle in Rachel’s hand. “The bottle that Rachel found in Glattis’s purse.”

The room exploded with noise. Everyone was shouting at once. This can’t be true. Poisoned? Are you sure? Oh my god. Someone called the police. Glattis’s face changed completely. The sweet, gentle mask was gone. Now she looked like a cornered animal, dangerous and desperate.

“This is insane,” Glattis shouted, her voice shrill and nothing like her usual soft tone. “That little brat is lying. She’s been against me from the start. She never wanted me around and now she’s making up horrible stories, too.”

“I’m not lying.” Rachel cried. “I saw you that night. I woke up and I saw you in the kitchen. You took that bottle from your purse and you poured something into mommy’s soup. Then you took the soup to her room and she ate it. And the next morning, she was worse than ever.”

“She’s a child with an overactive imagination,” Glattis said desperately, looking around the room for support. “She’s grieving and confused.”

“And then explain this,” Aunt Margaret said coldly. She unfolded a piece of paper. “This is a page from my sister’s journal written 2 weeks before she got sick.” Grace read it out loud. She handed the paper to an older woman in the front row, Mrs. Patterson, who had known Mom for years. Mrs. Patterson’s hands shook as she read, “Something’s been bothering me about Glattis lately. I can’t put my finger on it, but sometimes I catch her looking at Gideon in a way that makes me uncomfortable. And the way she touches our things, arranges our home when I’m not looking. It’s like she’s trying to step into my life instead of building her own.” Mrs. Patterson’s voice broke, but she continued, “I feel guilty for thinking this way. She’s my friend. She’s been nothing but helpful, but a mother’s instincts are strong, and mine are telling me something isn’t right.”

The room was completely silent now. Everyone was staring at Glattis.

“Grace suspected you,” Aunt Margaret said. “She knew something was wrong. And then mysteriously she got sick. And you were there every day, weren’t you? Making her special soups, special teas, always so helpful. Always so caring.”

Dad stood frozen, his face pale as a ghost. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck. “Glattis, tell me this isn’t true. Tell me you didn’t.”

Glattis’s eyes darted around the room. She was looking for an escape, but there wasn’t one. People had moved to block the exits without even realizing it.

“Of course, it’s not true.” Glattis said, but her voice was panicked now. “You know me, Gideon. I loved Grace. Why would I hurt her?”

“Why?” Rachel said, her voice strong despite her tears. “Because you wanted her life. You wanted her husband. You wanted her home. You wanted everything that was hers.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Glattis screamed. “I never…”

“I heard you.” Rachel shouted. “On the phone before mommy died. You said it won’t be much longer. When she’s gone, he’ll need someone. Who else would it be? I’m already practically living there. It’s perfect.”

Glattis’s face went from white to red. “You little spy. You were listening to my private conversations.”

“So, you admit you said it?” Aunt Margaret pounced on the slip.

“I… No, I was talking about something else.”

“What else could you have possibly been talking about?” Aunt Margaret demanded. “Who else but Grace? What else but her death?”

The tall man with gray hair in the third row stood up. Detective Morrison pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective James Morrison with the police department. Ma’am, I think you need to come with me to answer some questions.”

Glattis looked at the detective, then at the crowd, then at Dad. Her eyes were wild now, like a trapped animal. “No,” she said, backing away. “No, this is all wrong. You don’t understand.”

“Then help us understand,” Detective Morrison said calmly, walking slowly toward her. “If you didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t. I never,” Glattis was breathing hard now, her perfect composure completely shattered. “You’re all against me. You never gave me a chance.”

“None of you, Glattis. Please,” Dad said, his voice barely a whisper. “Just tell the truth. Did you… Did you hurt Grace?”

Glattis looked at Dad for a moment. Her face softened. “Gideon… and I did it for us. Don’t you see? Grace didn’t appreciate what she had. She had everything. A beautiful home, a wonderful husband, a perfect family, and she took it all for granted.”

The room gasped. Dad stumbled backward like he’d been slapped.

“She didn’t deserve you.” Glattis continued, her voice rising hysterically. “I watched you two for months. I saw how she was always busy with her books, with her writing, with her projects. She barely paid attention to you anymore. But I saw you. I appreciated you. I understood you.”

“Oh my god,” someone whispered. “She really did it.”

“I would have been so much better for you.” Glattis was crying now, but not sad tears, angry tears. “I would have put you first. I would have taken care of this family the way it deserved to be cared for. Grace was weak. She was always tired, always busy, always distracted. But I… I would have been perfect for you.”

“You killed my wife,” Dad said, his voice hollow. “You murdered the mother of my child.”

“I freed you.” Glattis shrieked. “I freed you from a marriage that was slowly dying anyway. She was never good enough for you, Gideon. Never.”

Detective Morrison moved quickly. “Ma’am, you need to stop talking right now. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

But Glattis couldn’t stop. It was like a dam had broken inside her and everything was pouring out. “It was supposed to be painless.” She sobbed. “The digitalis was supposed to just make her heart stop quietly. She wasn’t supposed to suffer. I’m not a monster. I just wanted what she had. Is that so wrong to want to be loved? To want to have a family?”

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Grace Thompson,” Detective Morrison said, pulling out handcuffs.

That’s when Glattis tried to run. She pushed past people knocking over a chair heading for the side door. But Mr. Roberts from dad’s office. A big strong man stepped in front of her and blocked her way.

“I don’t think so,” he said firmly.

Two other men grabbed Glattis’s arms. She struggled and screamed, but they held her tight until Detective Morrison could handcuff her.

“Let me go.” Glattis screamed. “You don’t understand. I loved him. I love this family. I would have been perfect for them. Grace didn’t deserve them. She didn’t deserve any of it.”

As Detective Morrison led her toward the door, Glattis turned and looked at Rachel with pure hatred in her eyes. “This is all your fault, you little brat,” she hissed. “You ruined everything. You couldn’t just let me have this one thing. You couldn’t just let me be happy.”

“You killed my mommy,” Rachel said quietly, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t deserve to be happy.”

Glattis let out a scream of rage and tried to lunge at Rachel, but the detective and the other men held her back.

“That’s enough,” Detective Morrison said firmly. “Let’s go.”

As they dragged Glattis out of the memorial hall, she kept screaming. “I would have been a good mother to you, Rachel. Better than Grace. She was weak. I would have made you strong. I would have…”

The door closed behind her, cutting off her voice. The memorial hall was completely silent. Everyone stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened. It felt like a nightmare, like something from a TV show, not real life. Then slowly people started moving, talking, crying, hugging each other. Dad stood in the middle of it all, staring at nothing. His face was gray. His hands were shaking.

“Dad,” Rachel said quietly.

He didn’t respond. He just stood there frozen.

“Gideon,” Aunt Margaret said gently, touching his arm. “Why don’t you sit down?”

But Dad didn’t sit. Instead, he turned to look at Rachel. His eyes were full of so many emotions. Shock, pain, confusion, and something else. Something that made Rachel’s heart hurt.

“You knew,” Dad said hoarsely. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

Rachel nodded, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I tried to tell you, Daddy. I tried so many times, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Dad’s face crumpled. “Oh, God. Oh, God. What have I done? I let that woman into our home. I let her near my daughter. I let her… I let her kill my wife.”

He fell to his knees right there in the memorial hall in front of everyone and sobbed. Rachel ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“It’s not your fault, Daddy. You didn’t know. Nobody knew except me.”

“I should have listened to you,” Dad cried, holding her tight. “I should have believed you. You’re just a child and you saw what none of us adults could see. I’m so sorry, princess. I’m so so sorry.”

They held each other and cried together while Aunt Margaret stood over them protectively, crying, too. Around them. People were still processing what happened. Some were calling their families to tell them what they’d witnessed. Some were crying for grace. Some were angry at themselves for not seeing the signs.

Pastor Mike stepped forward and spoke quietly to the crowd. “I think… I think we should end the service here. This family needs time to process what’s happened. Let’s give them space.”

Slowly, people started to leave. But before they left, many of them came to Dad and Rachel.

“I’m so sorry,” they said.

“Grace would be proud of your daughter.”

“That little girl is a hero.”

“Justice for Grace.”

Mrs. Chin hugged Rachel tight. “You are brave like your mama. She is watching you from heaven and smiling.”

Finally, only Rachel, Dad, Aunt Margaret, and Detective Morrison remained in the hall. The detective knelt down to Rachel’s level.

“Young lady, what you did today took incredible courage. You helped us catch a murderer. Your mother would be very proud.”

“Will Glattis go to jail?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, she confessed in front of dozens of witnesses. Plus, we have the physical evidence, the bottle, the lab results, your testimony. She’ll be in prison for a very long time.”

Rachel nodded. It didn’t make her feel better. Exactly. Mom was still gone. That wouldn’t change. But at least now everyone knew the truth. At least now Glattis couldn’t hurt anyone else.

“Can we go home?” Rachel asked Dad quietly.

Dad nodded, standing up slowly like he’d aged 20 years in the last hour. “Yeah, Princess, let’s go home.”

That night, the apartment felt different, quieter, emptier. All of Glattis’s things were gone. Aunt Margaret had thrown them all away while Dad and Rachel sat numbly on the couch. The sweater Glattis had worn, the slippers by the door, the tea in the cabinet, everything.

“I never want to see anything that belonged to that woman ever again,” Aunt Margaret had said fiercely as she stuffed it all into garbage bags.

Now, the three of them sat at the dining table with cold pizza that no one really wanted to eat. No one knew what to say. Finally, Dad spoke.

“Rachel, I need to ask you something.”

Rachel looked up at him nervously.

“When did you first know?” Dad asked, “When did you first suspect Glattis?”

Rachel thought back. “I guess I always felt like something was wrong with her. The way she looked at our family. The way she touched mommy’s things, but I didn’t really know until that night. The night I saw her put the poison in mommy’s soup.”

Dad’s jaw tightened. “And you tried to tell me.”

“I tried,” Rachel said quietly. “But you were so sad about mommy being sick. And you said you couldn’t handle anything else, so I stopped trying.”

Dad closed his eyes. “That’s on me. That’s completely on me. You’re 9 years old and you were trying to tell me something important and I shut you down because I was too wrapped up in my own grief.”

“You didn’t know,” Rachel said.

“I should have known.” Dad’s voice rose. Then he caught himself and took a deep breath. “I should have seen the signs. I should have questioned why Grace got sick so suddenly. I should have wondered why Glattis was always around with her special soups and teas. I should have protected you both.”

“Gideon,” Aunt Margaret said gently. “You can’t blame yourself. Glattis was very good at hiding what she really was. She fooled everyone, neighbors, friends, even me at first. If Rachel hadn’t been so observant and so brave, Glattis might have gotten away with it.”

Dad looked at Rachel with tears in his eyes. “You’re the bravest person I know. You know that? 9 years old and you stood up in front of a room full of adults and exposed a murderer. Your mother always said you were special. She was right.”

Rachel started crying again. “I miss her so much, Daddy.”

Dad pulled her into his lap and held her tight. “Me too, princess. Me too.”

They sat like that for a long time, just holding each other and crying. The next few days were a blur of police interviews, lawyer meetings, and news reporters. The story had hit the newspapers and TV. Woman poisons best friend to steal her family. 9-year-old daughter exposes killer at memorial service. Reporters camped outside their building trying to get interviews. Dad had to tell them all to go away that they were leaving his daughter alone.

Detective Morrison came by several times to update them on the case. “Glattis Martinez has been officially charged with first-degree murder,” he told them. “She’s being held without bail. Her lawyer is trying to claim temporary insanity, but with that public confession in front of all those witnesses, it’s not going to work.”

“How long will she be in prison?” Dad asked.

“With the evidence we have, life most likely. Premeditated murder, use of poison, the planning that went into it, the judge isn’t going to be lenient.”

Rachel felt a small sense of relief. At least Glattis couldn’t hurt anyone else. A few days later, they got more information. Detective Morrison told them that the police had searched Glattis’s apartment and found disturbing things.

“She had a whole scrapbook,” the detective said, his face grim. “Pictures of your family, hundreds of them. Some she’d taken herself without you knowing. She had pictures of you Gideon going to work. Pictures of Grace in the kitchen. Pictures of Rachel playing outside.”

Dad looked sick. “She was stalking us for months.”

“It looks like we also found a journal where she’d written about her plans. How she would slowly poison Grace, how she would comfort you, how she would eventually take Grace’s place in the family. It’s all documented.”

“That’s insane.” Aunt Margaret breathed.

“She was obsessed.” Detective Morrison agreed. “In her mind, she created this whole fantasy where she was meant to be with your family, where Grace was somehow standing in the way of her happiness.”

Rachel shivered. To think that woman had been in their home touching their things, sleeping in their guest room sometimes. It made her skin crawl.

“The good news is,” Detective Morrison continued, “All of this evidence makes the case against her absolutely solid. Her lawyer knows it. The prosecutors know it. This is going to be an open-end shut case.”

Two weeks after the memorial service, Dad made a decision. “I think we should move,” he announced one morning at breakfast.

Rachel looked up in surprise. “Move?”

“Leave our apartment.” Dad nodded. “There are too many bad memories here now. Every time I walk into the kitchen, I think about Glattis poisoning your mother’s food. Every time I see the guest room, I think about how I let that woman sleep in our home. I can’t… I can’t heal here.”

“Where would we go?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe across town. Maybe to a different city. Somewhere fresh. Somewhere we can start over.”

Aunt Margaret, who had decided to stay with them indefinitely, nodded in agreement. “I think that’s a good idea, Gideon. A fresh start might be exactly what you both need.”

But Rachel felt torn. Yes, there were bad memories here, but there were also good memories. This was where she’d lived with mom, where they’d had Friday movie nights on the blue couch. where mom had made pancakes in the kitchen, where they’d been a happy family.

“Can I think about it?” Rachel asked.

“Of course, princess,” dad said. “This is your home, too. Well decide together.”

That afternoon, Rachel went into mom’s office and sat in her chair. She looked around at all of mom’s things. Her books, her computer, her journals, her coffee mug with the yellow flowers.

“What should I do, Mommy?” she whispered.

Of course, there was no answer. But as Rachel sat there, she realized something. Mom wasn’t in this apartment. Mom wasn’t in these things. Mom was in Rachel’s heart, in her memories, in the lessons she taught her. Always speak the truth, even when it’s hard. Rachel had done that. She’d spoken the truth. Even when it was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and because of that, justice had been served. Maybe it was time for a new start. Maybe it was time to make new memories in a new place. She went to find Dad. He was in his bedroom packing up some of Grace’s clothes to donate.

“Daddy,” Rachel said from the doorway.

He looked up. “Hey, princess.”

“I think we should move,” Rachel said. “I think mommy would want us to be happy. And I don’t think we can be happy here anymore.”

Dad’s eyes filled with tears. He held out his arms and Rachel ran to him. They hugged each other tight.

“We’re going to be okay,” Dad whispered. “It’s going to take time, but we’re going to be okay.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “Because we have each other.”

One month later, they moved to a new apartment on the other side of the city. It was smaller than their old place, but it was bright and cheerful. It had big windows that let in lots of sunshine, and best of all, it didn’t have any memories of Glattis. Aunt Margaret got an apartment in the same building just two floors down.

“I’m not leaving you two alone,” she’d said firmly. “Your family and family sticks together.”

Dad started going to therapy to deal with his grief and the trauma of what had happened. He also started a support group for people who had lost loved ones to violence.

“Your mother’s death won’t be meaningless,” he told Rachel. “I’m going to help other people who are going through what we went through. I’m going to turn this tragedy into something that helps people.”

Rachel started therapy, too. A nice woman named Dr. Phillips who specialized in helping children deal with trauma and grief. At first, Rachel didn’t want to talk about her feelings, but slowly, session by session, she started to open up.

“You did an incredibly brave thing,” Dr. Phillips told her during one session. “But it’s okay to feel scared about it. It’s okay to have nightmares. It’s okay to be angry. All of those feelings are normal.”

“I just want to feel normal again,” Rachel said quietly.

“You will,” Dr. Phillips promised. “It takes time. Healing isn’t a straight line. Some days will be better than others, but you will get there.”

Rachel also started writing in a journal just like mom used to do. She wrote about her feelings, about her memories of mom, about what happened with Glattis, about her hopes for the future. One entry said, “I miss mommy every single day. Sometimes I forget she’s gone and I turn to tell her something and then I remember and it hurts so much I can’t breathe, but I’m trying to be brave like she taught me. I’m trying to keep going.”

3 months after the memorial service, Glattis’s trial began. Dad didn’t want Rachel to attend.

“You don’t need to see that woman again,” he said firmly.

But Rachel insisted, “I need to face her daddy. I need to see this through to the end.”

So on the day Rachel was scheduled to testify, Dad, Aunt Margaret, and Rachel went to the courthouse together. The courtroom was big and intimidating with high ceilings and rows of wooden benches. The judge sat at a tall desk at the front. Lawyers in suits shuffled papers and whispered to each other. And there at a table with her lawyer sat Glattis. She looked different now. Her hair wasn’t styled perfectly anymore. She wore plain clothes instead of nice dresses. She looked older, tired, defeated.

When Glattis saw Rachel enter the courtroom, their eyes met for just a moment. Rachel expected to see hatred in those eyes, like at the memorial service, but instead she saw something else, something that might have been regret, or maybe just sadness that her plans had failed. Rachel looked away first. Glattis didn’t deserve her attention.

When it was time for Rachel to testify, she walked to the witness stand with her head held high. She put her hand on the Bible and promised to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, just like mom had taught her. The prosecutor, a kind-looking woman named Miss Chin, asked Rachel to tell the court what she had seen. Rachel told the whole story about seeing Glattis put something in mom’s soup, about finding the brown bottle in Glattis’s purse, about overhearing the phone conversations, about mom’s journal entry, about everything. Her voice shook sometimes and she had to stop to wipe away tears, but she got through it.

When she was done, Miss Chin smiled at her gently. “Thank you, Rachel. You’re very brave.”

Then it was the defense lawyer’s turn to ask questions. He was a stern-looking man who tried to make Rachel doubt what she’d seen.

“Isn’t it possible you were dreaming when you saw my client in the kitchen?” he asked.

“No,” Rachel said firmly. “I was awake.”

“Isn’t it possible you misunderstood what she was doing?”

“No. She took a bottle from her purse and poured something into the soup. Then she looked around to make sure no one saw her. People don’t do that unless they’re doing something wrong.”

“Isn’t it possible that you’re angry at my client because you blame her for not being able to save your mother?”

Rachel looked the lawyer straight in the eye. “I don’t blame her for not saving my mom. I blame her for killing my mom because that’s what she did.”

Several people in the courtroom nodded in approval. The lawyer tried a few more questions, but Rachel didn’t budge from her story because it was the truth and the truth doesn’t change. Finally, the judge dismissed her from the witness stand. As Rachel walked back to her seat, she glanced at Glattis one more time. Glattis was crying silently, her head in her hands.

The trial lasted 5 days. Witness after witness testified. The lab technician explained the digitalis poisoning. Detective Morrison presented the evidence from Glattis’s apartment. The scrapbook, the journal, the detailed plans. Aunt Margaret read more entries from mom’s journal. Dad testified about how Glattis had inserted herself into their lives. But the most damning evidence was Glattis’s own confession at the memorial service. The prosecution played a video recording that someone had taken on their phone. Everyone in the courtroom watched as Glattis screamed about how Grace didn’t deserve her family, how she would have been a better wife and mother, how she’d done it all for love.

When the video ended, the courtroom was silent. Glattis’s lawyer tried to argue temporary insanity. He claimed that Glattis had been so lonely and desperate for family that she’d lost touch with reality. But the prosecution showed the journal entries, the careful planning, the months of stalking and preparation. This wasn’t insanity. This was cold, calculated murder.

On the fifth day, the jury went to deliberate. They were only gone for 2 hours. When they came back, the four women stood up and read the verdict.

“We find the defendant, Glattis Martinez, guilty of first-degree murder.”

Rachel felt Dad’s hand squeeze hers tight. Aunt Margaret let out a breath she’d been holding. Around them, people nodded and whispered, “Justice.”

The judge set the sentencing for 2 weeks later. On the day of sentencing, the courtroom was packed again. The judge, a stern woman with gray hair and sharp eyes, looked down at Glattis.

“Ms. Martinez,” the judge said, “you have been found guilty of one of the most heinous crimes imaginable. You murdered your best friend, a woman who had shown you nothing but kindness because you were jealous of her life. You poisoned her slowly over several weeks, watching her suffer, pretending to care for her while you killed her.”

Glattis stared at the floor, saying nothing.

“But perhaps worst of all,” the judge continued, “You tried to take her place in her family. You tried to steal her husband and become a mother to her child. You showed no remorse, only anger that you were caught.” The judge paused. “Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?”

Glattis was quiet for a long moment. Then slowly she stood up. She turned and looked at Rachel and Dad.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Her voice was different now, not sweet and fake, but tired and broken. “I know you won’t believe me. I know you’ll think I’m just saying it to get a lighter sentence, but I really am sorry.” She took a shaky breath. “I was so lonely for so long. I watched other people have what I wanted. Love, family, belonging, and I got so angry, so bitter. I convinced myself that Grace didn’t deserve what she had, that I would be better, that I deserved it more.” Tears ran down her face. “But I was wrong. Grace was a good person. She was kind to me when no one else was, and I killed her. I murdered my only friend because I wanted what she had.”

She looked directly at Rachel. “You were right about me from the beginning. You saw what I really was when everyone else was fooled. You’re a smart, brave girl. Your mother raised you well.”

She turned back to the judge. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I don’t deserve mercy. I deserve whatever punishment you give me. I just… I just wanted you to know that I know what I did was wrong and I’ll live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”

The courtroom was completely silent. The judge nodded slowly.

“Glattis Martinez, I hereby sentence you to life in prison without the possibility of parole. You will spend the rest of your days behind bars, thinking about the life you took and the family you destroyed.” The gavel came down with a sharp bang. “Court is adjourned.”

Guards came and led Glattis away in handcuffs. As she passed by Rachel’s row, she stopped for just a moment and looked at her one last time.

“Your mother would be proud of you,” Glattis whispered.

Then she was gone.