She watched his eyes roam across the wreckage, the yellowed wallpaper peeling at the seams, the sagging floorboards, the damp outline spreading near the ceiling. “Jesus,” he muttered. “He really let it rot, didn’t he?”
“He was dying,” Elise replied. “Yeah, and you were the lucky one who got to mop up after it.” Elise narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you think this was? Luck?” Michael smirked, but there was no humor in it. “I think you were the only one still under his spell.”