The question escaped before he could stop it.
Sarah looked at him.
There was no rage in her expression.
Only deep pity.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Victor waited.
“I left you a kidney.”
His eyes closed as a strangled sound escaped his throat.
“The car is still registered in your name,” Sarah continued quietly. “You have your personal accounts and your business.”
“Rita left me.”
“I assumed she would.”
“She said she wasn’t a nurse.”
Sarah gave a small, tired laugh.
“At least she was honest with you from the start.”
“Don’t mock me, Sarah.”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m simply amazed she gave you the truth sooner than you ever gave it to me.”
Victor lowered his head.
“I was going to leave you.”
“I know.”
His head snapped up.
“How?”
“Bank transfers. Hotel reservations. A retainer payment to a divorce attorney,” Sarah said. “You were never very careful with financial trails.”
“How long did you know about Rita?”
“Since June.”
Victor stared at her.
“You knew for six months? And you stayed? You still took me to dialysis three times a week?”
“You were dying of kidney failure, Victor.”
“That makes no sense.”
“To you, maybe it doesn’t.”
“Were you planning some elaborate revenge that whole time?”
“No.”
Sarah’s voice softened.
“I planned to leave quietly once your transplant was successful. I had already found a small one-bedroom apartment near the botanical gardens. I wanted to spend whatever time I had left walking through the park, reading, and visiting Lucinda without checking the clock.”
“Then why did you change your mind?”
“Because hearing you talk about me as though I were an object broke something inside me that couldn’t be repaired.”
Victor stared at the floor.
“Did burning the house make you feel better?”
Sarah hesitated.
“For a few hours. Afterward, no.”
“Do you regret it?”
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