Chapter 4
Tomorrow.
The word stayed between us like a door that had almost closed forever.
I looked at the suitcase beneath the window.
For the first time, I noticed it wasn't empty.
A sweater was folded across the top.
Two pairs of jeans.
A small toiletry bag.
A folder.
Her passport.
“You were packed.”
Emma wiped her face.
“I was going to leave before sunrise.”
“Where?”
“A motel first.”
My chest tightened.
“Then what?”
“I found a room for rent in Fort Worth.”
“You were going to rent a room?”
“I had saved enough for the deposit.”
“How?”
“Cash.”
I stared at her.
She gave a sad little smile.
“Margaret monitored the bank account.”
I couldn't believe I was hearing this about my own life.
“How much did you save?”
“About nineteen hundred.”
“Nineteen hundred dollars.”
She nodded.
While I had been sending thousands every month.
While Mom vacationed.
While Jennifer drove a new SUV.
My wife had been hiding twenty-dollar bills to escape the house I bought for her.
I wanted to scream.
Instead I asked the question I was most afraid of.
“If I hadn't come home today, would you have contacted me after you left?”
Emma looked away.
“I don't know.”
That was worse than no.
I sat beside the suitcase.
“You thought I abandoned you.”
“I thought maybe you had.”
“I called.”
“I know.”
“I sent gifts.”
“I know.”
“I told you I loved you.”
Her eyes met mine.
“You also believed everything Margaret told you.”
I had no defense.
She continued.
“When I said I was tired, you told me to listen to your mother because she had experience managing a household.”
I remembered.
“When I asked you for the account password, you said you didn't want to get involved in arguments about money.”
I remembered that too.
“When I told you Jennifer had moved into one of the guest rooms without asking, you said family should help family.”
Each sentence was a knife.
Not because Emma was trying to hurt me.
Because she was telling the truth.
Mom hadn't done this alone.
I had given her the space.
Every time Emma reached for me, I had told her to be patient.
Every time Mom complained, I had listened.
Every time there was conflict, I chose the easiest explanation.
Emma is stressed.
Mom means well.
Jennifer is immature.
It'll work itself out.
Five years of cowardly little explanations.
And Emma had paid for all of them.
“I failed you.”
She shook her head.
“David—”
“No.”
I stood.
“I did.”
“You didn't forge documents.”
“I trusted people who were hurting you.”
“You were overseas.”
“I had a phone.”
Her face crumpled.
I turned away because I couldn't stand seeing it.
Downstairs, Mom was arguing with the officers.
Her attorney had apparently told her not to answer questions.
She was now insisting she needed to leave.
Officer Ruiz told me they couldn't arrest her simply because I wanted them to.
There would be an investigation.
Documents would have to be authenticated.
Banks contacted.
Signatures compared.
Records pulled.
I understood.
But I also understood something else.
Mom wasn't spending another night in this house.
Neither was Jennifer.
I walked downstairs.
“Pack.”
Mom looked at me.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“My lawyer told me—”
“Your lawyer doesn't own this house.”
“You can't throw me onto the street.”
“I can tell you to leave my property.”
“This is my residence.”
Officer Daniels raised a hand.
“Civil occupancy issues can be complicated, sir.”
I nodded.
“Then I'll put them in a hotel tonight while I talk to an attorney tomorrow. But they are not sleeping under this roof with Emma.”
Mom laughed bitterly.
“There. You see? She's got you choosing her over your own blood.”
Emma had stopped halfway down the stairs.
I looked at Mom.
“She is my wife.”
“And I'm your mother.”
“Being my mother doesn't give you permission to abuse her.”
“I never touched her.”
Emma froze.
I saw it.
Mom saw me see it.
“What?”
Emma gripped the banister.
“Nothing.”
I walked toward her.
“Emma.”
“Please.”
My stomach twisted.
“Did she touch you?”
“No.”
Too fast.
I looked at Mom.
She looked almost smug.
Then Jennifer stood.
“Mom slapped her once.”
Mom spun.
“Shut up!”
The entire room froze.
I heard my own voice from far away.
“What?”
Jennifer began crying again.
“She slapped her once. That's all I saw.”
“All you saw?”
“I don't know what happened when I wasn't here.”
Mom charged toward Jennifer.
Officer Ruiz stepped in front of her.
“Back up.”
“She is lying!”
Jennifer shouted around the officer.
“You slapped her because she called David's bank!”
I looked at Emma.
She closed her eyes.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What happened?”
“I tried to report that I couldn't access the account.”
“And?”
“Margaret heard me.”
I could barely speak.
“She hit you?”
Emma nodded.
Once.
Then added, “She apologized.”
Mom seized on it.
“Yes! Exactly. I apologized.”
I stared at her.
“You think that makes this better?”
“She was screaming.”
Emma's eyes opened.
“I wasn't screaming.”
“You were hysterical.”
“I was asking the bank why my husband's account had been changed.”
“You were causing trouble.”
Officer Ruiz looked at Mom.
“Ma'am, I strongly suggest you stop talking.”
For once, Mom listened.
Jennifer looked at me.
“There's more.”
Mom whispered, “Don't.”
Jennifer ignored her.
“She took Emma's phone sometimes.”
I felt dizzy.
“What do you mean, took it?”
“So she couldn't call you when they fought.”
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
“You lived here.”
“Not all the time!”
“You knew.”
Her face twisted.
“I didn't know how bad it was at first.”
“At first?”
She looked down.
“I thought Mom was just controlling.”
I laughed without humor.
“You thought controlling my wife was acceptable?”
“No!”
“You helped her forge my signature.”
“I thought you knew!”
“Stop saying that.”
“I did!”
She screamed it.
Then she collapsed onto the couch.
“I swear, David. At the beginning, I thought you knew.”
Mom stared at her with pure hatred.
Jennifer pointed at the office.
“She had copies of your emails.”
My attention snapped toward her.
“What emails?”
“She could access your account.”
I went still.
“How?”
“Your old laptop.”
I remembered giving Mom my old laptop before leaving.
I had forgotten I was still logged into several accounts.
My skin went cold.
“She read my emails?”
“She answered some.”
Emma covered her mouth.
I looked at her.
“What?”
“That's why.”
“What?”
“There were emails.”
She rushed upstairs.
A minute later she returned with another folder.
Printed pages.
She handed them to me.
Emails supposedly from me.
To Emma.
Short.
Cold.
David, I'm busy. Ask Mom.
David, stop creating problems over small expenses.
David, if Mom says you need to contribute more around the house, listen to her.
My vision blurred.
“I didn't write these.”
Emma began sobbing.
“I know that now.”
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
I looked at the headers.
The messages came from my email account.
They were real in that sense.
Someone with access had sent them.
I thought about all those nights overseas when Emma's replies confused me.
Why are you talking to me like this?
I would respond:
Like what?
Then sometimes the conversation vanished.
Deleted messages.
Altered threads.
Mom hadn't just lied to us.
She had stood between us and spoken in my voice.
I looked at her.
“You pretended to be me.”
She said nothing.
“You sent messages to my wife pretending to be me.”
Still nothing.
Officer Daniels wrote something in his notebook.
Jennifer wiped her face.
“She told me it was because you were too busy to deal with Emma.”
I turned.
“And you believed that?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
Jennifer looked at Mom.
“The life insurance.”
Mom's face drained of color.
My heart stopped.
“What life insurance?”
Nobody spoke.
“What life insurance?”
Jennifer started shaking again.
“She applied for a policy.”
“On who?”
Jennifer looked at me.
“You.”
Emma whispered my name.
I felt the floor tilt.
“How much?”
Jennifer swallowed.
“Two million.”
Mom finally spoke.
“It was financial planning.”
I turned toward her.
“You forged a life-insurance policy on me?”
“You have business risks.”
“Who is the beneficiary?”
Mom didn't answer.
I already knew.
“You?”
Her silence confirmed it.
But Jennifer shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She looked terrified.
“Not anymore.”
Mom hissed, “Jennifer.”
My sister ignored her.
“She changed the beneficiary three months ago.”
“To who?”
Jennifer lowered her eyes.
“Me.”
I stared at her.
She shook her head wildly.
“I didn't ask her to!”
“Then why?”
“I don't know.”
Mom shouted, “Because you're my daughter!”
I looked at Mom.
“No.”
Something didn't fit.
A mother forging loans was greed.
Selling Emma's possessions was cruelty.
Pretending to be me was manipulation.
But a two-million-dollar life insurance policy?
That was different.
“When was the policy taken out?”
Jennifer whispered, “Two years ago.”
My stomach turned.
I had survived two serious accidents overseas during that time.
One car accident.
One kitchen gas explosion.
Both had been called bad luck.
I looked at Mom.
She could see exactly where my thoughts were going.
Her expression changed.
“Don't you dare.”
I took one step toward her.
“Did you know about my accidents before I told you?”
“That is insane.”
“Answer me.”
“Of course not!”
“You had access to my email.”
“I did not cause your accidents!”
Officer Daniels moved slightly closer.
Mom pointed at me.
“You're letting this woman make you paranoid!”
Emma hadn't said a word.
She stood behind me, horrified.
I turned to Daniels.
“I want everything documented.”
“It will be.”
“Everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mom grabbed her coat.
“I am leaving.”
This time no one stopped her.
Jennifer went upstairs and packed a suitcase.
Mom refused to pack.
She said she would return tomorrow with her attorney.
I told her she could return with police present.
Her eyes burned into me.
“You will regret humiliating me.”
I looked at Emma.
“No.”
“I already regret something.”
“What?”
“Not coming home sooner.”
Mom left.
Jennifer followed twenty minutes later.
Before stepping outside, she turned toward Emma.
“I didn't know all of it.”
Emma didn't respond.
Jennifer looked at me.
“I need you to believe me.”
“I don't know what I believe anymore.”
She nodded.
Then she whispered something so softly I almost missed it.
“Check the storage unit.”
“What storage unit?”
Her eyes widened as if she'd already said too much.
Mom shouted from the driveway.
“Jennifer!”
Jennifer hurried out.
I followed her to the door.
“Jennifer!”
She stopped beside Mom's car.
“Which storage unit?”
Mom grabbed her arm.
“Get in.”
Jennifer looked over her shoulder.
“Lakeview Storage.”
Mom shoved her into the car.
Then they drove away.
Emma came to stand beside me.
“What would be in a storage unit?”
I looked at the folder of forged documents in my hand.
“I don't know.”
Then my phone rang.
The number was international.
I recognized it immediately.
My business partner in Dubai.
I answered.
“Samir?”
His voice was tense.
“David, thank God.”
“What happened?”
“You need to tell me something.”
“What?”
“Did you authorize someone in Texas to sell your share of the company?”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“No.”
There was silence.
Then Samir said, “Someone tried this morning.”
I looked down the driveway where my mother's car had disappeared.
“What name did they use?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Samir.”
“I only have the company name.”
“What company?”
Paper rustled on his end.
Then he read it.
“MC Family Holdings.”
MC.
Margaret Carter.
I closed my eyes.
My mother hadn't just stolen from my home.
May you like
She had been reaching into my business.
And she had made her move the exact morning before I came home.
