Part 7
The temporary protection order gave us a fragile sense of safety, but it also turned Simon’s house into a virtual fortress. Simon took a mandatory leave of absence from his department to remain on-site, installing high-definition security cameras around the perimeter of the property and upgrading the locks on every door and window. We knew that Frederick wouldn't accept this defeat quietly; a man of his stature would view a restraining order not just as a legal setback, but as an insulting stain on his carefully manufactured legacy.
By the third day, the psychological warfare began in earnest. It started with subtle, unsettling reminders that we were being watched. A strange, silver SUV with tinted windows began parking at the far end of the street, its engine idling for hours at a time before slipping away into the dark whenever Simon stepped out onto the porch to investigate. Then came the financial retaliation. When I went to a local grocery store to buy groceries for Alice, my corporate credit card was declined. I immediately logged into my banking app, only to discover that our joint accounts had been completely frozen. Sarah’s attorney had filed an emergency financial motion, freezing all marital assets under the guise of preventing me from "dissipating funds while hiding the child."
I sat in Simon’s living room, staring at the zero balances on my phone screen, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I had a few hundred dollars in cash in my wallet, but that wouldn't last long. I couldn't pay my attorney, I couldn't buy specialized supplies for Alice, and I was entirely dependent on my brother’s generosity just to put food on the table. They were trying to starve me out, to force me into a position of financial desperation where I would be forced to capitulate just to survive.
"Don't worry about the money, David," Simon said, tossing a thick envelope onto the coffee table. "Elena and I emptied our savings account this morning. There’s five thousand dollars in cash in there. It’s enough for groceries, gas, and whatever Marcus needs to keep filing motions. We are in this until the very end."
"I can't take your savings, Simon," I said, my voice thick with emotion, shaking my head. "You guys have already done so much. You've put your home and your career at risk for us."
"You're not taking it, I'm lending it to you," Simon said with a firm, brotherly smile. "And family doesn't count the cost when a child's safety is on the line. Besides, Frederick is making moves, which means he's getting desperate. And when desperate people make moves, they leave a trail."
Simon sat down next to me, opening his laptop to reveal a complex database of old court records and local news archives. "I’ve been doing some off-the-record digging into Frederick’s past," he said, his expression turning deeply serious. "A man like him doesn't just suddenly start abusing his granddaughter at seventy years old. This kind of predatory, controlling behavior is a deeply ingrained pattern. It turns out, twenty-five years ago, when Frederick was still a sitting district judge, there was a quiet, internal investigation into a housekeeper who worked at their family estate. She filed a formal complaint alleging severe physical assault and intimidation."
My heart skipped a beat. "What happened to the complaint?"
"It vanished," Simon said, tapping the screen. "The police report was filed, but it was abruptly withdrawn forty-eight hours later. The housekeeper resigned, moved out of the state entirely, and bought a very expensive home in Florida just three weeks later. She was paid off, David. Frederick used his wealth and his judicial influence to bury the criminal investigation before it could destroy his career. And I managed to track down her current phone number."
Before we could discuss it further, the sound of glass shattering echoed from the rear of the house. Alice, who was upstairs in her room, let out a sharp, terrified scream that tore through the quiet evening.
Simon and I leaped to our feet instantly. Simon drew his department-issued service weapon from his waistband, his movements fluid and precise, while I rushed past him, sprinting up the stairs two at a time toward Alice’s room. I threw the door open, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.
Alice was huddled in the corner of her bed, her knees pulled to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. The large window facing the backyard had been completely shattered, a heavy brick lying in the center of the hardwood floor amidst a shower of dangerous, glittering glass shards. Wrapped tightly around the brick with a thick rubber band was a torn piece of paper.
I rushed to Alice, throwing my arms around her, pulling her away from the window and holding her tightly against my chest. "I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweetie. You're safe," I whispered, my body shaking with a terrifying mixture of fear and absolute fury.
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Simon entered the room a moment later, his gun lowered but his eyes scanning the dark, empty backyard through the broken frame. He walked over to the brick, carefully using a pen to lift the note without disturbing any potential fingerprints. He read it silently, his face turning entirely pale under the dim light of the bedroom.
He turned the note toward me. Written in cold, block letters cut from a magazine, the message read: "THE FOURTEEN DAYS WILL END. THE ORDER WILL EXPIRE. AND WE WILL TAKE WHAT IS OURS. DROP THE CASE, OR THE NEXT THING THAT BREAKS WON'T BE A WINDOW."
