The drive was silent, except for Owen asking once, “Is he sick?”
Mom kept her eyes on the road. “All I know is I’m not going there to save him.”
“Nobody expects you to,” I said.
Lydia opened the door before we knocked. She looked exhausted. “The surgery didn’t go well.”
Mom froze. We exchanged glances.
“What do you mean?” Mom asked. “What surgery?”
“He spent everything trying not to get old.” Lydia motioned us inside. “Surgeries, treatments, injections, hair restoration, skin tightening—everything. Every time someone promised he’d look younger, he paid.”
“And Tessa?” Nora asked.
“She left as soon as the credit cards ran out.”
Mom didn’t react. “And now?”
“He couldn’t afford his apartment. He’s been here two weeks.”
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