Megan had framed it as a once-in-a-lifetime family memory.
The children would love the snow.
Her parents had always dreamed of Aspen.
Family mattered most at Christmas, she had said.
Family.
That word sat differently now.
Evelyn reached for the kettle, then stopped when a glow caught her eye.
An old tablet lay on the kitchen island beside a red lipstick-stained mug.
Megan’s tablet.
The one she used for recipes, online shopping, and group chats she was forever checking with sharp little smiles she never explained.
A new message flashed across the screen.
Operation Ditch Grandma.
For a second, Evelyn thought she had misread it.
Then she picked it up and unlocked it.
No password.
Megan had always relied on other people cleaning up after her, including her own carelessness.
The group chat opened immediately.
At the top was Megan’s message from the night before.
We leave around 4 a.m.
