Chapter 29 - The Family Dinner
The sound of children laughing filled my house for the first time in what felt like an eternity, but this time, it was different.
There were no abandoned suitcases in the hallway. There was no red folder filled with demanding instructions, no passive-aggressive notes about organic almond milk, and no looming sense of being exploited.
Maya, the oldest, sat at my kitchen counter helping me peel potatoes, her small hands working diligently.
"Grandma?" she asked quietly, not looking up from the cutting board.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Mom said you hated us. Before we left, she told us you were going to kick us out on the street because you didn't love Dad anymore."
My hands paused over the sink. Across the kitchen, Patrice looked up from the stove, her jaw setting into a hard line.
"Your mother was very sick in her heart, Maya," I said, walking over and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I love you, Leo, Sam, and baby Chloe more than my own life. But love doesn't mean letting someone steal what belongs to you, and it doesn't mean letting people treat you like a doormat. Do you understand?"
Maya looked up, her dark eyes remarkably clear for a twelve-year-old. "I'm glad you went to Portugal, Grandma. Dad started standing up straight after you left."
A lump formed in my throat. I kissed the top of her head. "Go help your brother set the table, darling."
Later that evening, after the children were asleep upstairs in the guest rooms, Caleb, Patrice, and I sat around the dining table. Marcus Sterling arrived at eight, carrying a thick leather briefcase.
He placed three separate legal binders on the table.
"First," Marcus said, opening the red binder, "Bridgepoint Capital has officially executed a full release of lien and recorded a formal discharge. They realized that defending a bridge loan based on an acknowledged forged power of attorney would open them up to predatory lending sanctions from the state attorney general. Your home is one hundred percent unencumbered, Myrna. The title is clear."
I let out a long, slow breath. The house Arthur had built with his own hands, where we had raised our children, was safe.
"Second," Marcus continued, opening the blue binder, "Caleb's divorce filing and petition for emergency sole legal and physical custody was docketed at two o'clock today. Given Tori's felony charges, the abandoned travel itinerary to Dubai, and the dissipation of marital assets, the judge granted temporary sole custody to Caleb without visitation pending trial."
"And the third binder?" I asked, looking at the black leather folder in front of him.
May you like
Marcus’s expression hardened. "The third binder is what Detective Kowalski found when they raided Tori’s storage unit outside Schaumburg."
***
