I flipped the light switch with trembling fingers, holding my breath as the darkness gave way to light. The shadowy figure seated in my living room armchair made me gasp.
"Hello, Luna Monroe. Or should I even call you that anymore?" The man's voice was rough, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me with predatory intensity.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my back pressed against the door. "What are you doing in my apartment?"
He chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "I'm Gregory Morgan. You probably don't recognize me, but you certainly knew my wife, Martha."
The name struck me like a physical blow. Martha Morgan—the nurse who had been a perfect kidney match for Violet.
"Martha..." I whispered. "She was going to donate her kidney to my daughter."
"Until she mysteriously got reassigned to another patient," Gregory said, standing up. His large frame swayed slightly. "A certain Isabelle Beaumont."
My heart pounded against my ribs. "What are you saying?"
