Sometimes it was hard to discern right from wrong when caught in the midst of things. But a different perspective often brought clarity. How foolish, especially considering his cherished daughter had tried to kill him.

Dexter broke down, trapped in a nightmare. His tightly shut eyes twitched; his expression contorted in pain and torment. Myra, at his bedside, was startled. She shook him urgently, calling, “Wake up! Please wake up! Darling, what’s wrong? Are you having a nightmare?”

After several shakes, Dexter opened his eyes. The lamp's bright light blinded him momentarily. Myra emerged from the haze, as beautiful and elegant as he remembered, though time had etched more white in her hair and wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. He still found her stunning.

Dexter froze before regaining his senses. Tears streamed down his face. “Darling…”

Hearing his voice, Myra was overwhelmed with surprise and joy, nearly bursting into tears. “You… You’re better? Have you come to your senses? Do you recognize me?”

Dexter nodded, holding Myra’s hand tightly. “You must have had a difficult time caring for me. You must be exhausted.”

“As long as you’re better…” Myra choked back tears. She knew he would have done the same for her.

They exchanged a look that conveyed everything unspoken. Then Myra’s expression turned grim. “What happened that day? You were fine when I left the hospital, but soon after, you were rushed to the emergency room for attempting suicide!”

Suicide?

Dexter’s expression shifted; he snorted. “Is that what Kayla told you?” His voice was cold, devoid of any affection for Kayla.

Myra’s heart skipped a beat; she nodded hesitantly.

Dexter continued, “Darling, do you think I’d ever kill myself? Even if the sky were falling, I’d stand strong for you. Do you think I’d take such a cowardly way out?”

Myra shook her head. “I didn’t believe it either. So, who tried to harm you? What happened?”

He sat up, staring at Myra with reluctance, hesitation, and heartache. He knew better than anyone how much Kayla meant to her. Nineteen years as mother and daughter had forged a bond far surpassing mere blood relation. Myra loved Kayla deeply, valuing her life as her own; otherwise, she wouldn't have bankrupted the family to save Kayla from a murder charge.

Dexter hesitated, then recalled the images from his dream—the cruel treatment his biological daughter, Felicia, had endured—and it tore at him. Finally, he answered, “It was Kayla. She tried to kill me.”

Myra stared at him in disbelief.

He sighed and recounted the events of that day. Kayla had stolen a swapped map. He'd accidentally discovered her actions, confronted her, and tried to retrieve the map. Weakened and injured, Kayla pushed him down, grabbed a pillow, and pressed it over his face, suffocating him.