Chapter 7
Emily grabbed Noah and backed away from the door.
I moved in front of her.
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
“Daniel?”
A woman’s voice.
I recognized it.
Sarah Mitchell.
I exhaled.
“It’s my lawyer.”
I checked through the peephole anyway.
It was Sarah.
Alone.
I opened the door.
She stepped inside carrying a laptop bag.
“What happened?”
I showed her the photo.
Her expression changed immediately.
“Who knows this hotel?”
“No one.”
“Did you book with a shared credit card?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Change that.”
Emily asked, “Do you think Linda can see our purchases?”
“Possibly. Or someone has access to Daniel’s accounts.”
I thought about Richard.
He had helped my father organize finances years ago.
After Dad died, he helped Mom with probate.
He had seen account numbers.
Passwords might have been reused.
I hated myself for how careless that suddenly seemed.
Sarah opened her laptop.
“I confirmed something.”
We sat.
“The guardianship petition has not been filed.”
Emily’s shoulders dropped.
“But,” Sarah added, “Richard called the clerk’s office this afternoon asking about emergency filing procedures.”
My relief disappeared.
“So tomorrow?”
“Possibly.”
“What happens if he files?”
“We respond.”
Emily’s voice shook.
“Could they take Noah before we respond?”
“In extreme cases, courts can act quickly. But based on what you’ve told me, Linda’s evidence has serious credibility problems.”
She looked at the hidden-camera report number.
“Especially now.”
I nodded.
Sarah continued.
“The more immediate concern is documenting what happened to Emily.”
Emily stiffened.
“I don’t want people thinking I’m crazy.”
Sarah’s expression softened.
“Seeing a doctor does not make you look crazy.”
“My mother-in-law already has records.”
“Stolen records.”
Emily looked down.
Sarah leaned forward.
“Emily, exhaustion, shaking, fear, postpartum anxiety, all of those deserve medical care. Getting appropriate help is evidence that you are responsible, not incapable.”
I looked at my wife.
“You need a doctor.”
She nodded slowly.
“I know.”
We arranged an appointment for the morning with her OB-GYN.
Sarah also advised me to file reports for account access if we found evidence someone had entered our online accounts.
Then she asked for Linda’s messages.
I showed her everything.
She stopped at one.
You have until midnight to bring my grandson to me.
Sarah frowned.
“That wording is useful.”
“Useful?”
“It shows she believes she has some claim to direct possession of Noah.”
Emily looked frightened.
“Does she?”
“No.”
Sarah’s answer was immediate.
“You are Noah’s parents.”
For the first time all night, Emily seemed to breathe.
Then my phone rang.
Michael.
I answered.
His voice was low.
“Mom’s at my house.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“She says she needs somewhere to stay.”
“Do not let her use your computer.”
“Too late.”
I stood.
“What?”
“She asked to print something.”
“Michael!”
“I didn’t know.”
Sarah motioned for me to calm down.
“What did she print?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’m in the garage calling you.”
“Go back inside.”
“I’m trying not to make her suspicious.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something.”
Everyone went quiet.
“What?”
“In Dad’s old files.”
My mother had spent years telling us our father kept every receipt, every document, every boring piece of paper.
Michael had been checking the old cloud folders after finding Linda’s videos.
He found a scanned letter from my father.
“What kind of letter?”
“It’s addressed to all three of us.”
My father had three sons.
Me.
Michael.
And our oldest brother, Steven.
“What does it say?”
Michael sounded shaken.
“Dad was worried about Mom.”
I sat down.
“What do you mean?”
“He wrote it a month before he died.”
My father had died from a heart attack.
Sudden.
Unexpected.
He was sixty-one.
“What was he worried about?”
“Her behavior.”
My chest tightened.
Michael continued.
“He said she was becoming obsessed with keeping the family together.”
Emily looked at me.
The phrase sounded almost harmless.
Then Michael kept reading.
“He wrote that Mom had started calling Steven’s employer when he didn’t answer her.”
I remembered that.
Steven had been furious.
Mom told us he was embarrassed because she accidentally called the office.
Apparently, it was not an accident.
“He wrote that she opened his mail.”
Dad’s mail?
“No. Steven’s.”
I stared at the floor.
“He said she copied a key to Steven’s apartment.”
I felt sick.
Steven had moved to Denver twelve years earlier.
Mom always said he left because his wife hated us.
I wondered what the real story was.
“Does Steven know about the letter?”
“I called him.”
“And?”
“He said Dad tried to warn him.”
That hurt.
“Warn him about what?”
“Mom.”
I closed my eyes.
Michael continued.
“Steven says when he got engaged to Melissa, Mom did the same thing.”
“What same thing?”
“She told him Melissa was cheating.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“She made fake emails.”
Emily whispered, “Oh my God.”
Michael said, “Steven found out before the wedding.”
I could barely process it.
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“He tried.”
Memories started returning.
Steven and Mom had a huge fight.
Mom cried for days.
She told Michael and me that Melissa had poisoned him against the family.
I was twenty-three.
I believed her.
Steven moved away six months later.
We barely spoke for almost two years.
Even now, our relationship was polite rather than close.
My stomach twisted with shame.
“What else did Dad’s letter say?”
Michael hesitated.
“He wanted us to promise not to let Mom control our marriages.”
I laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“We failed.”
“Yeah.”
Then Michael lowered his voice.
“Daniel, I think she’s coming.”
A door opened on his end.
My mother’s voice sounded distant.
“Who are you talking to?”
Michael ended the call.
I stared at the phone.
Sarah said, “You need to contact Steven.”
I did.
He answered on the second ring.
“Daniel.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He was quiet.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
I remembered being twenty-three.
Angry.
Defensive.
Telling my oldest brother that Mom sacrificed everything for us.
Telling him Melissa was separating him from the family.
The exact accusation Linda now made about Emily.
“Oh.”
Steven sighed.
“You remember now?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
I rubbed my face.
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Michael told me what happened.”
I looked at Emily.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Believe your wife.”
The answer came instantly.
“I do.”
“Then keep doing it when Mom changes tactics.”
“What tactics?”
Steven gave a bitter laugh.
“She’ll cry first.”
I thought about the tears before she left.
“Then she’ll get sick.”
“What?”
“She’ll have an emergency.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then she’ll blame Emily.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when I stopped talking to her for a month, she told everyone Melissa had caused her heart problem.”
“Did she have a heart problem?”
“She had indigestion.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Steven continued.
“After that, she’ll recruit people.”
“She already has Richard.”
“She’ll recruit more.”
“Then what?”
A pause.
“Then, if none of it works, she’ll threaten to expose a secret.”
I looked at Emily.
“Secret?”
“She always claims she knows something that can destroy your marriage.”
My skin prickled.
“She already did that.”
“Did she show you anything?”
“Stolen medical records.”
“That’s not the secret.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she needs the secret to be something only she can reveal.”
I hated how familiar Steven sounded with the pattern.
“Did she do that to you?”
“Yes.”
“What was Melissa’s secret?”
“There wasn’t one.”
I stared at the wall.
Steven said, “Daniel, she creates one.”
My phone buzzed.
A new message from Linda.
Not text.
A video.
Sarah told me not to open it until we saved a copy.
We did.
Then I pressed play.
The video showed Emily in our bedroom.
Pregnant.
Crying.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Someone was speaking from outside the camera frame.
My mother.
“Say it again.”
Emily in the video shook her head.
Linda’s voice hardened.
“Say you never wanted this baby.”
Present-day Emily gasped beside me.
In the video, she said, “That isn’t what I said.”
Linda replied, “Then what did you say?”
Emily cried harder.
“I said I’m scared.”
“Scared of the baby?”
“Scared I’ll fail him.”
The clip ended.
May you like
A second message came from Linda.
Tomorrow the court gets the shorter version.
