Her nail was painted a pale pink, chipped at the edges.

“You’ve always begrudged your sister every single thing,” she said.

“You want her to be sick. You want her to suffer so you can feel superior.”

“I wanted her to get better,” I said quietly.

“That’s why I gave you my savings for her treatments.”

“Then sign the deed,” she commanded.

She tapped her finger on the blank line at the bottom of the page.

“Sign it, or you are no longer a part of this family.”

The silence in the room grew heavy and cold.

The radiator gave another loud, metallic clank.

A gust of wind rattled the loose pane of the window behind me.

I looked at my father.

He was staring at his own hands, which were scarred from forty years at the steel mill.

He looked small in the dim light of the floor lamp.

“Dad?” I asked.

“Are you going to let her do this?”

He didn’t look up at me.

“Your mother knows what’s best, Sarah,” he murmured.

His voice was barely a whisper.