“What’s the Point of Keeping Her Around? Her $2,500 a Month Wouldn’t Even Pay for a Nurse”
The little black recorder sat perfectly centered on the white tablecloth, its red light blinking like a heartbeat. Amanda’s smile collapsed first. Patricia’s eyebrow twitched. Benjamin went still—too still—like a boy frozen at the sound of his own name in the principal’s office. Amanda tried to laugh. “Charlotte… what’s this supposed to be?” I clicked…