Page 179 of This Life of Mine

The shock doesn’t hit all at once. It comes in waves— knocking the air out of my chest long after Alex finished telling me.

David Allister. Dead.

I don’t say it out loud, but I know it in my bones. Something happened to him.

He left the bakery confused—but not dismissive. I saw it in his eyes. The way his posture shifted. The way his questions slowed with realization. A light had turned on in his head, one he couldn’t turn off again.

He knew. He knew we had both been lied to.

And I think—no, I’m almost certain—that he went home intending to confront Elinor. Not with rage. Not theatrics. But with that quiet, deliberate seriousness he always carried when something mattered.

I think about David—not as Cole’s father, not as part of that family—but as a man who realized too late that the woman he trusted most had been lying to him. Manipulating him.Undermining him. And when he figured it out. It cost him his life.

This was about Money. Elimination.

And I can’t shake the feeling that David died because he was ready to stand on the right side of the truth.

As I avert my gaze from Alex, grief and fury tangling together. There’s no part of me that believes this ends well. Not anymore. And my thoughts won’t let me rest.

They circle back to David, over and over—how disturbed he seemed when he left the bakery, how something had clearly clicked into place. And then my mind drifts somewhere else. Somewhere softer. Somewhere that hurts in a different way.

Virginia. Poor, sweet Virginia.

A lump forms in my throat when I think about her. I’m almost grateful she didn’t live to see her son die. Losing her only child would have shattered her. I know it would have. She adored David in that quiet, steady way that never demanded anything in return.

But then another thought slips in, unwelcome.

Virginia…her sickness came on so swift.

One day she was fine—frail, yes, but lucid. Laughing. Asking me to show her silly videos on my phone. Complaining about hospital food and gossiping about neighbors. And then…she wasn’t. A rapid decline. Confusion. Weakness. A body that seemed to betray her almost overnight.

I straighten in my seat, my pulse quickening.

Elinor.

She hired the caregivers. She oversaw the estate. She had access to everything.

Alex and Reese have been unraveling lie after lie, and every thread seems to lead back to her.

Elinor chose who had access to Virginia. Who administered her medications. Who monitored her care. Who spoke to doctors on her behalf.

My heart starts to pound. Could she have done it? Could she have also been responsible for Virginia’s death?

The idea feels awful—almost sacrilegious—but I can’t shake it. Too much lines up. Too many convenient endings. Too many people standing in her way who are gone.

“I need to ask you something.”

Alex turns, attention locked on me. “What is it?”

I draw a breath. “Virginia’s illness…it came on sort of fast. Elinor hired her caregivers. She controlled everything towards the end.”

Alex’s expression changes—not alarmed, but alert. Focused.

“Are you thinking…” he asks, tilting his head in understanding.

“I am,” I admit. “And I hate it. But I need to know.” My voice wavers. “Can Reese dig into her medical records? Anything—medications, dosages, changes, inconsistencies. Anything that might point to foul play?”

Alex doesn’t dismiss it. Doesn’t soften it.