Chapter 7 - LORNA’S VERSION
Lorna requested mediation.
Not reconciliation.
Her lawyer made that clear.
I agreed because I wanted information.
Neutral office.
No Estelle.
No Lenette.
Lorna wore a navy suit instead of one of the dresses she used as armor.
The bruise from my slap had faded.
I began:
“I shouldn’t have hit you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re apologizing?”
“I’m stating a fact.”
“Do you expect me to forgive you?”
“No.”
Good.
Then:
“You pushed Estelle onto her knees.”
“She needed discipline.”
“She was five.”
“You raised her with no boundaries because you’re guilty her mother died.”
That landed.
Because there was truth inside the cruelty.
I had overcompensated sometimes.
Still irrelevant to broken dishes.
“Why the placement form?”
Lorna folded her hands.
“Because Estelle needs structure.”
“Why was it hidden?”
“I wanted to discuss it after the wedding.”
“Why after?”
“Because you would overreact.”
“Like canceling a marriage to someone who wants to institutionalize my child?”
“She wasn’t going to an orphanage.”
“You said orphanage.”
“I was angry.”
Important.
Her threat was not a finalized legal plan.
Cruel words.
The documents indicated a private residential school, not orphanage.
Still unacceptable without my involvement.
“What school?”
“Briar Glen.”
I knew it.
Therapeutic residential program.
For children with serious behavioral needs.
Estelle had none.
“Who suggested it?”
Lorna hesitated.
“Consultant.”
“What consultant?”
“Family integration specialist.”
Name:
Rebecca Hale.
Licensed social worker?
No.
Education consultant.
Paid by Lorna.
Rebecca had never met Estelle.
She wrote a preliminary memo based entirely on Lorna’s descriptions.
Potentially unethical.
Not medical.
Not diagnosis.
Then:
“Why remove Lenette?”
“She encourages dependence.”
“She protected Estelle from you.”
“She undermined me.”
“There was no authority to undermine.”
Lorna’s jaw tightened.
Then money.
“Did you know about the eight million transfer?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Rollins Coastal is a good investment.”
“Maybe.”
She looked surprised.
“You’re not denying it?”
“I don’t know enough yet.”
“Your family drags everything through committees.”
“That may be why the company still exists.”
She looked away.
“Did you want Estelle out because Arthur’s review would slow the deal?”
“No.”
“Then why did your notes mention household representative?”
Silence.
There.
Her lawyer whispered.
Lorna answered carefully.
“I believed as your wife I should have a meaningful role in family decisions.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I wanted the household representative position.”
Finally.
“What would it give you?”
“Access.”
“To money?”
“To decision-making.”
“Why?”
“Because I was not going to spend my marriage asking permission from a five-year-old’s lawyer.”
There.
The emotional core.
She could not tolerate a child’s independent protections standing between her and family status.
Then she leaned toward me.
“You think this is about money?”
“Partly.”
“It’s about being your wife.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I should come before your dead wife’s paperwork.”
I sat back.
Amelia had never been the problem.
May you like
Lorna had been fighting a woman who died four years before they met.
And Estelle had become the battlefield.
