“I’m going to take a shower,” I announced, needing to escape. I leaned against the bathroom door, my heart pounding. What was happening? Why was Catherine looking at me as if I’d committed a heinous crime? I turned on the water, hoping the hot spray could wash away the sticky, pervasive unease. I convinced myself it was all in my head. How wrong I was.

When I stepped out, Catherine was standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with a hatred so sharp and cold it stole my breath. I clutched the towel tighter, feeling utterly exposed.

“What do you want, Catherine?” My voice trembled.