Rose explained everything calmly. After a fall, Colette had taken over her care, moved her into a back room, and cut off every call and visitor. She had also forged a power of attorney to control the bank accounts, planning to sell the house the moment Rose died. Rose discovered it in September and secretly phoned Mr. Alvarez that same week. Her call to me came while Colette was at the pharmacy, and “I already took care of it” meant the trust, which placed the house and savings out of Colette’s reach.

The nurse, Marisol, opened the wooden box. Inside were all my Sunday cards and a small recorder. She had smuggled the cards to Rose’s bedside and read them aloud each week. She was also the one who had texted me from an unknown number. On the recorder, Colette ordered the staff to keep me off the visitor list, calling me a bad influence. Dennis, sitting beside my mother, stared at the floor and admitted she had told him Rose was contagious and could not see anyone.

Mr. Alvarez read the terms next. The house and savings went to me, with a generous gift to Marisol and the hospital unit. Colette received her mother’s old watch and nothing more, and a clause cut her out entirely if she contested anything. He added that the forged power of attorney had already been reported to the state. Colette stood, shaking, and whispered that she had only wanted to protect the family money. I answered that she had only protected herself.

Months later, Colette repaid what she had taken from the accounts and avoided prison with probation, though she never spoke to me again. Rose’s last words on the recording said she had hidden the trust because she knew Colette would threaten me, and she wanted me protected without a fight. I moved into her house, turned on the porch light, and kept it on every night. Marisol visits on Sundays, and the yellow lamp still glows in Rose’s window. I finally stopped feeling small.