The old woman’s voice sounded even more frail than before.
“Grandma, I’ve just been busy with work lately.”
“Dani… Alex told me you’ve had your hands full. What could possibly keep you busier than Alex?”
Danielle paused, unsure how to answer.
She really didn’t want to return to the old family estate, didn’t want to face Alexander, or deal with the Davidsons.
But she’d signed the agreement. She could only avoid it for so long; eventually, she’d have to come back.
She’d already turned down the invitation more times than she could count.
Now, she fell silent.
On the other end of the line, Helen Davidson’s guilt deepened.
“Last time, when Niki got hurt… I swear I never meant for that to happen. Since then, you haven’t set foot in this house.”
“And then, at the Fletcher funeral, you didn’t bring Niki, either.”
Her heart ached. Ever since her granddaughter’s accident, she’d been wracked with worry. If anything had happened to Niki… she’d never forgive herself.
Danielle, it seemed, was deliberately keeping Niki away from her.
Helen replayed everything in her mind, convinced Danielle’s distance was all because of that injury.
“This time, just come by yourself, Dani. You don’t have to bring Niki.”
Helen was already conceding, again and again.
Danielle had always considered Helen Davidson her real grandmother—she couldn’t just cut off someone who’d always treated her well, no matter how messy things were between her and Alexander.
She let out a helpless sigh and finally relented. “I’ll come after work.”
—
After her shift, Danielle drove to the old Davidson estate, spotting Alexander’s car parked out front.
She stepped inside.
A comforting aroma—something like chicken stew—wafted from the kitchen.
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