Chapter 7
The next two days were a blur of lawyers, police calls, and fear.
I stopped going home.
Maya insisted Lily and I stay with her until the protective order hearing became permanent.
I agreed.
For the first time in my life, I checked every parked car before walking outside.
Lily noticed.
“Are we hiding?”
I hated that question.
“No.”
“Then why can’t we sleep at home?”
“Because I want us together somewhere Grandma doesn’t know as well.”
“She knows Aunt Maya.”
“Yes.”
“But the police told her she can’t come.”
“Yes.”
Lily thought about that.
“Does Grandma listen to police?”
I had no idea.
That was the problem.
Jason visited in the afternoons.
Always after asking.
Always leaving when I told him.
He never tried to hug me.
Never asked when I was coming home.
Never said we needed to save our marriage.
Instead, he sat on the floor and played cards with Lily.
One afternoon, I heard her ask him, “Did Grandma lie because she wanted money?”
Jason froze.
I stood in the kitchen doorway.
He looked at me.
I gave a tiny nod.
He turned back to Lily.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes people want control so badly that they make terrible choices.”
“Did she want my money?”
“It was supposed to be yours one day.”
Lily frowned.
“I have thirteen dollars.”
Jason almost smiled.
“This is different money.”
“Can she have it?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“If she wanted it that bad, can she just have it so she stops being mean?”
My heart shattered.
Jason’s eyes filled.
“No, baby.”
“Why not?”
“Because you never have to pay someone to be kind to you.”
The room went still.
He swallowed.
“And if someone hurts you because they want something, giving it to them doesn’t make what they did okay.”
Lily looked down at her cards.
“Okay.”
Then she whispered, “I don’t want her money.”
Jason reached across the table.
“You don’t have to think about any of that right now.”
That evening, Robert’s attorney arranged a meeting.
I almost refused.
Then I learned the trust issue involved Lily directly.
So I went.
Jason came separately.
Emily was there.
Robert looked twenty years older than he had at the barbecue.
His attorney, Mr. Patel, opened a thick binder.
“Thomas Coleman established several trusts before his death.”
He pointed to a section.
“This one was created for direct descendants.”
I tried to follow.
I understood enough.
Jason’s first biological child was entitled to a twenty-percent ownership interest in Coleman Development.
Not immediately.
The shares were held in trust until adulthood.
But the beneficiary had to be identified.
“Lily should have been named seven years ago,” Mr. Patel said.
I looked at Jason.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
Mr. Patel nodded.
“There’s evidence Diane submitted a sworn declaration stating Jason had no biological children.”
Emily covered her mouth.
Robert stared at the table.
My skin went cold.
“She signed that after Lily was born?”
“Yes.”
“So she lied in a legal document.”
“It appears so.”
Jason leaned forward.
“Where did the shares go?”
“Control remained temporarily with Diane as trustee.”
“And the money?”
Mr. Patel hesitated.
“There were distributions.”
“How much?”
“We’re still auditing.”
Robert said quietly, “At least eight hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at him.
“Spent on what?”
“Some went into investment properties.”
Emily’s face changed.
“The Sedona house.”
Robert nodded.
“And the Scottsdale condo.”
Jason laughed without humor.
“So Mom stole from Lily and bought vacation homes.”
“Potentially.”
Mr. Patel chose his words carefully.
“The court will decide.”
I didn’t care what word they used.
My daughter’s grandmother had tried to erase her identity so she could control money meant for her.
That was stealing.
That was betrayal.
That was calculated.
Mr. Patel slid another document toward me.
“There’s something else you need to see.”
It was a copy of a letter.
Diane had sent it to the trust attorney six years earlier.
The letter claimed Jason knew Lily was not biologically his and had decided not to contest paternity publicly because he wanted to protect his marriage.
I read the sentence twice.
Then I looked at Jason.
“Did you authorize this?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
His face hardened.
“I never knew the trust existed.”
Mr. Patel nodded.
“We found no signature from Jason.”
I looked at the bottom.
Diane had written:
My son has given me authority to handle this painful family matter privately.
Painful family matter.
That was me.
That was Lily.
We had been reduced to a problem Diane needed to manage.
Then Mr. Patel said, “There’s one more issue.”
I braced myself.
“Diane filed a notarized statement from a supposed witness claiming Sarah admitted Lily had another father.”
My mouth fell open.
“Who?”
He turned the page.
I recognized the name.
Karen Whitmore.
Diane’s best friend.
The woman who had attended Lily’s birthdays.
The woman who once brought her a pink bicycle.
The woman who had hugged me after my miscarriage three years earlier.
My stomach turned.
“What exactly did she say?”
Mr. Patel read from the affidavit.
“That during a private conversation, Sarah admitted Jason was probably not Lily’s biological father.”
“That never happened.”
“I believe you.”
Jason pushed away from the table.
“I’m calling her.”
“No,” Mr. Patel said sharply.
Jason stopped.
“Do not contact potential witnesses.”
Jason sat back down.
I felt trapped inside somebody else’s nightmare.
Emily suddenly said, “Karen was at Mom’s house yesterday.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
“I drove past. Her car was there.”
Robert’s jaw tightened.
“Diane is preparing.”
“For what?” I asked.
Mr. Patel answered.
“To defend herself.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Something made me answer.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “Sarah?”
“Yes?”
“This is Karen.”
Everyone at the table froze.
Her voice trembled.
“I need to talk to you before Diane finds out I called.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why?”
May you like
She started crying.
“Because I lied.”
