They waited.

And while they waited, Eleanor invited Elena to practice in the music room.

That was where the lullaby began.

“You asked me whether I liked my name,” Elena said.

Eleanor smiled through tears.

“Yes.”

“I thought it was a strange question.”

“I had named you Lily.”

Elena covered her face.

Eleanor reached toward her, then stopped.

She did not assume the right to touch her.

“I wanted to know whether you were happy being Elena.”

“I was.”

“Then I was happy too.”

The test confirmed the truth.

Samuel prepared documents.

Eleanor rewrote her will.

Then she arranged to bring Maxwell home from Boston.

“I wanted us all together,” she said. “Ruth too. I thought we could be angry and frightened together, and eventually find a way.”

“What happened?”

Her eyes moved toward Julian.

“He found out.”

Maxwell looked down at the will.

The envelope bore the Anderson crest and an old wax seal.

“How did he get this?”

“I kept a signed duplicate here,” Eleanor said. “Samuel held the other.”

Julian spread his hands.

“Your mother left important documents unattended.”

“You searched her room.”

“I was managing a family crisis.”

“You were the crisis.”

For the first time, Julian’s composure slipped.

His jaw tightened.

Eleanor continued before he could speak.

“He offered Ruth money to disappear again. More this time.”

“Did she take it?” Elena asked.

“No.”

The answer came without hesitation.

“She told him he would have to explain everything to you himself.”

Elena closed her eyes.

Her mother, timid with landlords and apologetic in shops, had done that.

“She brought you here the next afternoon,” Eleanor said. “You practiced while we spoke downstairs.”

“I remember.”

“You were meant to stay for dinner.”

“I remember that too.”

Instead, Ruth took her home before sunset.

Three days later, Eleanor was dead.

Or so the world was told.

“What did you do to her?” Maxwell asked.

Julian glanced toward the corridor.

Two officers had arrived beside the guests. Someone downstairs had called the police after Eleanor was discovered.

His uncle’s gaze lingered on them.

“I protected a vulnerable woman.”

Maxwell almost laughed.

“You locked her away.”

“She was making reckless accusations.”

“True accusations.”

“She was prepared to tear this family apart.”

Eleanor looked up.

“It was already torn apart. I was trying to bring my children home.”

Julian’s face became strangely blank.

Vanessa, still held apart from the others by the guards, began crying again.

“Please stop,” she said. “Please.”

Maxwell turned.

“Why did you want the will burned?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me.”

“Because he was going to make you hate her.”

Julian looked sharply at Vanessa.

But she was no longer looking at him.