Aunt Elaine arrives on a Thursday.
I have exactly three days of peace after Eleanor's departure. Three days of quiet mornings. Sophie's chaos. Kevin's spreadsheets. Lucas's pink ears. Three days of pretending my family is complete and no one else will descend on my penthouse like a well-dressed hurricane.
I am wrong.
The doorbell rings at precisely ten in the morning. A sharp, precise rhythm—two short rings followed by one long. Like a code. Like someone is announcing their arrival with deliberate intention.
I open the door.
A woman stands in the hallway. Late forties. Impeccably dressed in a cream silk blouse and tailored navy trousers. Her hair is perfect. Her makeup is perfect. Her posture is so perfect it makes Lucas look like he's slouching.
She looks me up and down, taking in my unicorn pajamas, my messy hair, my bare feet. Her expression doesn't change. But I feel judged anyway.
"So," she says. "You're the amnesiac."
"I'm Vivian. Who are you?"
