Chapter 3
I read the attorney's letter three times.
Each time, the words became uglier.
My mother had contacted a law office pretending to act on my behalf.
She had asked about protecting my overseas earnings from a spouse.
My spouse.
Emma.
The woman I had worked five years to come home to.
The woman washing pans while my family drank wine.
According to the letter, “I” was considering divorce.
“I” believed my wife was financially unstable.
“I” wanted to move assets before filing.
None of it was true.
I looked at my mother.
“How long have you been planning to destroy my marriage?”
She straightened her shoulders.
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Her.”
Emma looked as if she'd been slapped.
I stepped between them.
“Don't point at my wife.”
Mom's face hardened.
“She was never right for you.”
I actually laughed.
It came out cold.
“You waited until I was thousands of miles away before deciding that?”
“I knew before you married her.”
“Then why didn't you say it?”
“I did.”
“No. You made little comments. You complained about the wedding. You said she was quiet. You said her family wasn't ambitious enough. You never said, ‘David, I'm going to forge your name, sell her belongings, steal money, and convince her you hate her.’”
Mom slammed her purse onto my desk.
“I kept this family together while you were gone!”
“You tore my family apart.”
“I am your family!”
Emma stepped backward.
That was when I understood how deep the damage went.
My mother's definition of family had never included Emma.
Not really.
Emma had been tolerated because I loved her.
Once I left, tolerance ended.
I looked at the practice signatures.
“Who wrote these?”
Mom didn't answer.
I looked at Jennifer.
She was crying silently now.
“Jennifer.”
She shook her head.
“Don't.”
“Who wrote them?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew enough to say I would never find out.”
“I was talking about the accounts.”
“So you knew.”
She covered her face.
Mom snapped, “Stop interrogating your sister.”
I turned.
“I'm not your little boy anymore.”
“You'll always be my son.”
“And you're standing in a room filled with evidence of crimes committed against me.”
She flinched.
Good.
I wanted the word to land.
Crimes.
Not misunderstandings.
Not family disagreements.
Crimes.
I called the police.
This time Mom didn't laugh.
She became furious.
“You're really doing this?”
“Yes.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“After everything I've done?”
I looked around my office.
“That's exactly why.”
Emma touched my arm.
Her hand was freezing.
“David.”
I turned.
She looked frightened.
Not of Mom.
Of what might happen next.
“What?”
“You need to see the bedroom.”
Mom shouted, “Emma!”
I moved instantly.
“Do not raise your voice at her.”
Emma swallowed.
“The bedroom closet.”
My heart sank.
“What about it?”
She looked at the floor.
“They moved my things.”
“Where?”
“Garage at first.”
“At first?”
“Then Jennifer had a yard sale.”
I stared at my sister.
Her crying stopped.
“Tell me that's not true.”
Jennifer lifted her chin.
“She wasn't using most of it.”
“They were my things,” Emma said.
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
“You had too much.”
“What did you sell?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“Clothes. Bags. Some furniture.”
Emma whispered, “My grandmother's jewelry box.”
Something inside me snapped.
I knew that jewelry box.
It wasn't expensive.
Dark wood.
Small brass flowers.
Emma's grandmother had raised her after her father died.
The box was one of the few things Emma had left from her.
I walked toward Jennifer.
She stepped back.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is it?”
“I sold it!”
“To who?”
“It was three years ago!”
Emma turned away.
I saw her shoulders shake.
Mom said, “It was junk.”
I looked at her.
“Get out of my sight.”
“This is my house too.”
“No, it isn't.”
“I live here.”
“You've been living here.”
“I helped pay—”
“With my stolen money?”
She stopped.
The police arrived twelve minutes later.
Two officers.
One older man named Daniels.
One younger woman named Ruiz.
The moment they walked inside, Mom transformed.
Her voice became soft.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“My son just returned from overseas. He's exhausted. His wife is upsetting him.”
Officer Ruiz looked at me.
“Sir?”
I pointed toward the office.
“Forged financial documents. Identity theft. Unauthorized loans. Stolen property. Possibly fraud involving my wife being falsely reported as deceased.”
Mom's performance slipped.
“David!”
Ruiz's expression changed immediately.
Daniels entered the office.
He picked up one of the practice sheets using gloves.
“Whose handwriting?”
“I don't know.”
“I do,” Emma said.
Everyone turned.
Her face was pale.
She pointed at a stack near the printer.
“Jennifer's.”
My sister screamed.
“You liar!”
Officer Ruiz moved between them.
“Ma'am, step back.”
Jennifer was breathing hard.
Emma continued.
“She used to practice while watching television.”
“What?” I asked.
Emma's eyes filled.
“Your mother told her she needed to learn your signature for deliveries and business documents.”
I looked at Mom.
“You told her that?”
“It wasn't like that.”
Emma shook her head.
“It was exactly like that.”
Mom pointed at her.
“You were happy enough to live off David while he worked himself sick.”
Emma's expression changed.
“I worked.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
Mom's face tightened.
Emma looked at me.
“I got a job two years after you left.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I tried, Margaret said she'd tell you I was planning to leave.”
I couldn't understand.
“Where did you work?”
“A dental office. Reception.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother found out.”
Mom interrupted.
“She was embarrassing you.”
“How?”
“People would wonder why your wife needed a job.”
Emma let out a broken laugh.
“I needed food.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
She looked ashamed.
Ashamed.
As if she had done something wrong.
“Margaret changed the household account password. She gave me a debit card with a weekly allowance.”
My hands went numb.
“How much?”
“Fifty dollars.”
I thought I'd misheard.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Food if I didn't eat what they bought. Toiletries. Gas.”
I looked at Mom.
“You gave my wife fifty dollars a week?”
“She didn't need more.”
“I was sending fifteen thousand dollars a month home.”
Officer Daniels looked at me sharply.
“Fifteen thousand?”
“Yes.”
“For household expenses?”
“Yes.”
Mom folded her arms.
“You asked me to manage the money.”
“I asked you to help Emma if she needed it.”
“She needed discipline.”
The words chilled me.
Emma whispered, “If I spent too much, she'd take the card.”
I looked at Emma's hands again.
Red.
Cracked.
A small cut near her thumb.
“How long have you been doing all the cleaning?”
She didn't answer.
“Emma.”
“Two years.”
I closed my eyes.
Two years.
“What happened to the cleaners?”
“Margaret fired them.”
Mom said, “They were expensive.”
I opened my eyes.
“You stole half a million dollars and fired cleaners because they were expensive?”
Officer Ruiz looked toward Mom.
“Ma'am, I'm going to advise you not to say anything else right now.”
Mom stared at her.
“You can't tell me what to say in my son's house.”
Ruiz remained calm.
“I can advise you.”
Jennifer sat down.
Her entire body was shaking.
Then her phone buzzed.
She looked at it.
Her face changed.
She tried to turn the screen away.
Officer Daniels noticed.
“Ma'am, please don't delete anything.”
“I wasn't.”
The phone buzzed again.
Then again.
Jennifer began crying harder.
Kyle's name appeared on the screen.
I couldn't read the message.
But she could.
And whatever he wrote terrified her.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“What did he say?”
She threw the phone onto the couch.
“Fine!”
She looked at Mom.
“This is your fault.”
Mom went rigid.
“My fault?”
“You said everything was covered!”
“Be quiet.”
“You said the lawyer fixed it!”
“Jennifer.”
“You said David signed the new papers!”
“Shut up!”
The officers exchanged a glance.
I stared at my mother.
“What new papers?”
Nobody answered.
Emma suddenly grabbed my wrist.
Her nails dug into my skin.
“David.”
“What?”
Her eyes were fixed on the desk.
One envelope.
White.
Certified mail.
She pointed.
“That came yesterday.”
I picked it up.
My name was printed across the front.
I opened it.
Mortgage company.
Notice of default.
Foreclosure proceedings could begin if the delinquency wasn't cured.
My knees nearly gave out.
“You put the house into default?”
Mom shook her head.
“It's temporary.”
I stared at her.
“This house was paid off.”
She said nothing.
I looked at the balance.
Four hundred twelve thousand dollars.
Another loan.
Another forged signature.
I felt sick.
Officer Daniels asked, “Do you want to make a formal report?”
“Yes.”
Mom looked at me as if I had stabbed her.
“David.”
“Yes.”
“Think carefully.”
“I am.”
“You'll destroy this family.”
I looked at Emma.
At the woman who had apparently spent years being told she was unwanted inside her own home.
Then I looked back at Mom.
“No.”
“You already did that.”
The officers began photographing the documents.
Mom called an attorney.
Jennifer called nobody.
Emma sat at the kitchen table, staring at her hands.
I sat beside her.
For the first time since walking in, we were alone enough to speak quietly.
I reached for her fingers.
She pulled away.
The movement was automatic.
And it hurt more than anything else that night.
“Emma.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
“I didn't mean—”
“You don't have to let me touch you.”
Her eyes filled.
I lowered my hand.
“I'm sorry.”
She looked confused.
“For what?”
“For leaving you here.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have.”
“How?”
“Because you're my wife.”
Her lips trembled.
“I tried to tell you.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“No, David.”
She looked directly at me.
“I really tried.”
Something in her voice frightened me.
“How?”
She stood.
Then she walked upstairs.
I followed.
She led me to the bedroom.
Our bedroom.
Except it wasn't ours anymore.
Mom's clothes filled half the closet.
Jennifer's boxes filled the other half.
Our wedding photograph was gone.
Emma opened the bottom drawer of a nightstand.
Inside were envelopes.
Dozens.
Every one addressed to me.
Every one returned.
Some unopened.
Some torn open.
Some stamped with overseas postage.
“What are these?”
Her voice broke.
“The letters I sent when your mother started listening to our phone calls.”
I picked up the first.
The date was four years ago.
I opened it.
David, something is wrong. Your mother has changed the passwords, and she says you told her not to let me access the account. Please call me when you're alone.
Another.
David, Jennifer took my car today. Margaret says it belongs to the family because you paid for it. I don't know what's happening.
Another.
Please don't believe them if they tell you I'm unstable.
Another.
I love you. I don't know if you still love me, but I need you to hear me directly.
I couldn't breathe.
“Why were they returned?”
Emma looked toward the hallway.
“Your mother gave me the address.”
I understood.
A fake address.
Every letter sent into nowhere.
I sank onto the edge of the bed.
Then Emma reached behind the drawer.
She pulled out one final envelope.
Unlike the others, it had never been mailed.
“I wrote this six months ago.”
I looked at her.
“What is it?”
She handed it to me.
On the front, she had written my name.
Inside was one page.
Only one.
David,
I can't live like this anymore.
If you ever come home and I'm gone, please know I waited as long as I could.
I never stopped loving you.
But I stopped believing you were coming back for me.
I couldn't finish reading.
I lowered the letter.
“Were you going to leave?”
Emma was crying now.
“Yes.”
“When?”
She looked at the calendar on the wall.
May you like
Then at me.
“Tomorrow.”
