Chapter 6
Michael told me not to open the door.
For once, we agreed.
Diane knocked again.
“Sarah, open this door.”
Emily was already calling 911.
I checked the camera.
Diane stood on the porch wearing the same clothes from the previous day.
Her hair was messy.
Her face looked tired.
But her eyes were sharp.
A small suitcase rested beside her.
She leaned toward the door.
“We need to talk.”
I stayed silent.
Then she tried the key again.
The new deadbolt didn’t move.
Her face changed.
“You changed the locks?”
Emily whispered, “Don’t answer.”
Diane hit the door with her palm.
“This is my home!”
Michael heard everything through the phone.
“No, it isn’t,” he said.
I switched to speaker.
“Then tell her.”
He went silent.
I almost laughed.
Even now.
Even after the arrest.
Some part of him was still twelve years old.
Still afraid of making his mother angry.
I walked toward the door as far as my crutches allowed.
I didn’t open it.
“Diane.”
The pounding stopped.
“Sarah.”
“You need to leave.”
“This is my son’s house.”
“It’s our house.”
“Not for long.”
Emily looked at me.
I pressed record on my phone.
“What does that mean?”
Diane laughed.
“You’ll find out.”
Michael finally spoke loudly through the speaker.
“Mom, leave.”
Silence.
Then Diane’s tone changed.
“Michael?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
The rage vanished.
Suddenly she sounded exhausted.
Fragile.
“I’ve been in jail all night.”
“You were arrested because you assaulted Sarah.”
“They treated me like an animal.”
“Leave the property.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“You said Aunt Laura would never help you. Maybe try one of your friends.”
Diane went silent.
Then she asked, “You talked to Laura?”
Michael looked confused through the phone.
I answered.
“She came here last night.”
Diane’s face transformed on the camera.
“What did that lying bitch tell you?”
Michael inhaled sharply.
I said nothing.
“Sarah!”
Still nothing.
Diane slammed both fists against the door.
“She has hated me her entire life!”
Sirens sounded nearby.
Diane heard them.
She stepped away.
“You called the police again?”
“Yes.”
She stared into the security camera.
Then smiled.
“Fine.”
She picked up her suitcase.
“You want war?”
My stomach tightened.
Michael said, “Mom, stop.”
“You chose her.”
“I chose not to let you abuse my wife.”
“You think she loves you?”
Diane laughed.
“She threw you out the second she learned about one kiss.”
Michael looked away.
I froze.
“How do you know he left?”
Diane’s smile widened.
She had guessed.
Or maybe Michael had spoken to her after leaving.
I looked at the phone.
His face was gone from the call screen because it was audio only, but I could hear him breathing.
“Michael?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
Diane interrupted.
“You didn’t have to. I know my son.”
A police cruiser pulled up.
Diane lifted her suitcase.
“I’m leaving.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“But this isn’t over.”
The officers stopped her on the sidewalk.
One spoke with her.
Another came to our door.
I showed him the recording.
He explained that her release conditions prohibited threatening or harassing me.
The statement about war could matter.
He documented it.
Diane was ordered to leave.
This time she walked away.
Not arrested.
Just removed.
I watched until she disappeared around the corner.
Then I called Michael back.
He answered immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
He became quiet.
I sat on the couch.
“Did you talk to Diane after you left here?”
“No.”
“Did she call?”
“Several times. I didn’t answer.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Screenshots.”
He sent them.
Nine missed calls from his mother.
Two voicemails.
I asked him to forward those too.
The first was Diane crying.
“Michael, please. I need my son.”
The second was different.
Her voice was cold.
“If you leave me sitting in this jail while you hide at a hotel, I will tell Sarah everything. And then I will tell her what happened to her money.”
I replayed it.
My blood ran cold.
“What money?”
Michael didn’t answer.
There it was again.
Another secret.
“Michael.”
“I don’t know what she means.”
“Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You hesitated.”
“Because I’m trying to think.”
“What money?”
“I swear I don’t know.”
Emily watched me.
I believed him.
Maybe.
Which meant Diane had another weapon.
“Where are you?”
“At the Hampton.”
“Stay there.”
“Sarah, I want to come over.”
“No.”
“We need to talk.”
“We will.”
“When?”
“When I can look at you without wondering which sentence is a lie.”
He inhaled painfully.
“I understand.”
I almost ended the call.
Then I remembered Laura.
“Do you know where your father is?”
Silence.
“What?”
“Daniel.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you asking?”
“Laura told me something.”
His voice hardened immediately.
“Whatever she told you, be careful.”
That was Diane speaking through him.
“What did your mother tell you about Laura?”
“That she’s selfish. Bitter. She tried to steal money from Grandma.”
“Laura says Diane forged inheritance papers.”
Michael laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it sounded impossible.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
He became quiet.
I continued.
“Laura said your father sent letters.”
Nothing.
“Michael?”
“My father abandoned me.”
“Did you ever hear that from him?”
“I was twelve.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
“Did you ever see the divorce records?”
“No.”
“Did you ever search for him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His answer came instantly.
“Because my mother said he didn’t want me.”
My heart hurt for him.
Despite everything.
That was the cruelty of Diane.
She had harmed me physically.
But what she had done to Michael might have started decades earlier.
“Laura said Diane destroyed his letters.”
“No.”
“She said Daniel tried to see you.”
“No.”
“She said Diane threatened to accuse him of hurting you.”
“Stop.”
His voice cracked.
I stopped.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “Why would she do that?”
I didn’t answer.
Because he already knew.
Control.
“If there’s a chance Laura is telling the truth,” I said, “you should find out.”
Michael ended the call fifteen minutes later.
Emily brought me coffee.
Neither of us mentioned the fact that my husband might be discovering his entire childhood was a lie.
At noon, I received a call from my bank.
The representative asked whether I had recently authorized a withdrawal from our joint savings account.
My heart stopped.
“What withdrawal?”
“Thirty-two thousand dollars.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“What?”
“The transfer request was initiated yesterday.”
“By whom?”
“Your joint account holder.”
Michael.
I closed my eyes.
“Was it completed?”
“No. The system flagged it because the receiving account was recently added.”
“What account?”
She could only tell me the last four digits.
I wrote them down.
My hands shook.
I called Michael.
He answered.
“Sarah?”
“Did you transfer thirty-two thousand dollars out of our savings?”
“What?”
“Yesterday.”
“No.”
“The request came from your login.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
We both knew.
Diane.
But how?
Michael suddenly swore.
“What?”
“My old laptop.”
“What about it?”
“She uses it.”
My stomach tightened.
“You left your banking login saved?”
“I thought I logged out.”
“You thought?”
“Sarah, I’m sorry.”
I gripped the phone.
“What account was the money going to?”
“I don’t know.”
I read him the last four digits.
Michael went silent.
“Michael?”
“I recognize that number.”
My heart hammered.
“Whose account?”
He answered so quietly I almost didn’t hear.
“My mother’s.”
And suddenly Diane’s voicemail made sense.
Then I will tell her what happened to her money.
May you like
She hadn’t been threatening to reveal something from the past.
She had been announcing what she was trying to steal.
