Chapter 6
I sat down.
Hard.
Dana reached for a notepad.
“What did Linda do to you?”
Rebecca didn’t answer immediately.
When she finally spoke, her voice had changed.
Less controlled.
“She made sure I understood I didn’t belong.”
I looked toward the living room.
Sophie was building blocks with Claire.
My stomach twisted.
“How?”
“However she could.”
“Rebecca, I need specifics.”
“No, you want specifics.”
“Yes.”
“And you deserve them. But I need to know why you called.”
I told her.
Not every detail.
Enough.
Sophie under the table.
Noah.
The room.
The food.
The bruises.
Linda’s disappearance.
The money.
When I finished, Rebecca said nothing for so long I thought the call had dropped.
Then I heard her whisper.
“God.”
“Did Frank know what she was capable of?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“He tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
“No.”
There was no defense in her voice.
That surprised me.
“He failed me too,” Rebecca said. “And he knew it.”
I swallowed.
“Tell me what happened.”
Rebecca took a slow breath.
“My mother was named Susan. She and Dad were together before he married Linda.”
“So you weren’t the result of an affair?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Another lie.
“Michael thinks you were.”
“I know.”
“Linda told him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if I was the dirty secret from an affair, then she became the wronged wife. People forgive cruelty when they think it comes from pain.”
“What was the truth?”
“My mother became pregnant. Dad panicked. His family pressured him. Susan left town. A few years later Dad met Linda.”
“And Linda knew about you?”
“From the beginning.”
“What did she do?”
“When I was eight, Dad started having regular visitation with me. Every other weekend.”
Rebecca paused.
“Linda hated it.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
My skin went cold.
“She would make special dinners for Michael and serve me cereal.”
I shut my eyes.
“She bought him birthday presents and told me my gift was being allowed in their house.”
My throat tightened.
“She gave him the guest room when relatives visited and made me sleep in the laundry room once because she said I had wet the bed.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
My fingers started shaking.
It was the same pattern.
Different child.
Different decade.
Same woman.
“Did Frank know?”
“Pieces.”
“Why didn’t you tell him everything?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He confronted her. She cried. She said I was troubled because my parents weren’t together.”
Rebecca laughed without humor.
“He wanted peace more than truth.”
Exactly like Michael.
“He kept thinking if he loved everyone enough, eventually Linda would stop seeing me as competition.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“When did you stop seeing them?”
“When I was thirteen.”
“Why?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because she accused me of stealing.”
“What?”
“Her wedding ring disappeared. She said she found it in my bag.”
“Did she put it there?”
“Yes.”
“You know that?”
“She admitted it years later.”
My mouth went dry.
“What happened at thirteen?”
“Dad believed her.”
Rebecca’s voice cracked for the first time.
“He called my mother and said I needed help.”
“Oh, Rebecca.”
“I heard him.”
I closed my eyes.
“I never went back.”
“What happened to Frank?”
“He kept calling. Sending letters. I returned most of them.”
“And later?”
“When I was twenty-eight, we reconnected.”
“Did Linda know?”
“Eventually.”
“What did she do?”
“Made sure Michael believed I wanted money.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“What was the probate fight about?”
Rebecca became quiet again.
“My father left something for me.”
“What?”
“Not much. Fifty thousand dollars.”
“That’s not nothing.”
“It wasn’t about the amount.”
“What happened?”
“The beneficiary paperwork disappeared.”
Dana’s head lifted.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“Dad had a life insurance policy. He told me he changed it so Michael and I would split it.”
“And?”
“After he died, everything went to Linda.”
“Did you challenge it?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“We settled.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something worse.”
I felt a chill.
“What?”
“Dad had been moving money.”
“To where?”
“A trust.”
“For whom?”
There was a pause.
Then Rebecca said, “For his grandchildren.”
My eyes moved automatically toward Sophie.
“How much?”
“Originally around two hundred thousand.”
I stopped breathing.
“Two hundred thousand dollars?”
“Dad had inherited money from his mother. Linda didn’t know how much at first.”
“What happened?”
“He created a trust with me as successor trustee.”
Dana stood.
This had just become much bigger.
“Where is that money now?”
“Most of it is still there.”
“Most?”
“Dad withdrew some before he died. I never knew why.”
“How much?”
“About forty thousand.”
My mind flashed to Linda’s claims.
Family money.
Inheritance.
The house.
“What grandchildren were named?”
“At the time, Sophie was the only one he knew about.”
I whispered, “Noah existed.”
“Dad never knew.”
Of course.
Because Michael had hidden Noah from everyone except Linda.
“What does this have to do with Linda?”
“She found out about the trust after Dad died.”
“And?”
“She went crazy.”
“What did she want?”
“Control.”
“Did she get it?”
“No.”
“Can she access the money?”
“No.”
“Can Michael?”
“Not directly.”
“What does directly mean?”
Rebecca sighed.
“The trust is for Sophie’s education, health, and future. I’m trustee. Michael and you are listed as parents, but neither of you controls the principal.”
I looked at Dana.
“So the money belongs to Sophie?”
“In trust, yes.”
“Does Linda know?”
“She knows enough.”
“Why did she say Noah was cheated?”
“Because if Dad had known Noah existed, he likely would have included him.”
“That’s probably true.”
“Yes.”
“And Linda blames Sophie?”
“She blames everyone except Michael.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
“So she thought Sophie had money that should belong to Noah.”
“Probably.”
A horrifying possibility formed.
“Rebecca, could Linda somehow force a change?”
“No.”
“Could Michael?”
“Not without court involvement and not casually.”
“Could I?”
“No.”
“Then why target Sophie?”
Rebecca was silent.
Then she said, “Because Linda doesn’t understand money she cannot control.”
Dana gestured for the phone.
“Rebecca, this is Emily’s attorney.”
“I figured someone was there.”
“Would you be willing to provide the trust documents?”
“To Emily, yes.”
“And records of communication with Linda?”
A longer pause.
“I kept everything.”
“Why?”
“Because my father told me to.”
That struck me.
“What do you mean?”
Rebecca answered me this time.
“A month before he died, Dad came to see me.”
“What did he say?”
“That Linda had learned about the trust.”
“And?”
“He was scared.”
“Of her?”
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
“Did he think she would hurt him?”
“No. Not physically.”
“What then?”
“He said, ‘She’ll go after the weakest person connected to the money.’”
I couldn’t speak.
Rebecca continued.
“I asked who that was.”
Her voice broke.
“He said Sophie.”
Across the room, my daughter laughed at something Claire said.
A normal sound.
A beautiful sound.
I looked at her and felt terror settle into my bones.
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“After Dad died.”
“No.”
“I sent letters.”
“I never got them.”
“I emailed.”
“Not me.”
“Your shared family account.”
Michael handled that account.
My stomach dropped.
“What email address?”
She told me.
Yes.
Ours.
Or what I had thought was ours.
“I never saw anything.”
“Then someone deleted them.”
“Michael?”
“I don’t know.”
I did.
Or I thought I did.
“Did you call?”
“Once. Linda answered Michael’s phone.”
Of course she did.
“She told me never to contact your family again.”
“And you listened?”
“I had spent my entire life being told my presence destroyed families.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should have tried harder.”
That phrase.
It followed every adult around Linda.
I should have tried harder.
Frank.
Rebecca.
Me.
Maybe eventually Michael.
“What happens to Sophie’s trust if something happens to you?”
“Emily.”
“I need to know.”
“If something happens to me, another professional trustee takes over.”
“Not Linda?”
“Never.”
“Not Michael?”
“Never.”
I exhaled.
“Good.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Linda called me three days ago.”
I stood.
“What did she want?”
“She wanted money.”
“For Noah?”
“She said for Michael.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
Almost exactly what Michael borrowed.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She threatened me.”
“With what?”
“She said if I didn’t ‘correct Dad’s mistake,’ she would make sure Sophie stopped being the only grandchild who mattered.”
My heart froze.
“Did you record it?”
“No.”
“Text?”
“No. Phone call.”
Dana wrote furiously.
“Did she say anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘By next week, Emily won’t have the life she thinks she has.’”
I remembered my business trip.
Two weeks.
The perfect window.
Bring Noah in.
Push Sophie out.
Establish a new family dynamic.
Move money.
And perhaps worse.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Where do you think Linda is?”
“I don’t know.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from Claire.
She was ten feet away.
She looked pale.
I opened it.
A photograph.
Her doorbell camera.
A black SUV parked across the street.
Inside was a woman.
Even through the windshield, I recognized her.
Linda.
May you like
She hadn’t disappeared.
She had found us.
