Chapter 2 - The Papers Richard Wouldn’t Drop
The SUV stayed outside the gate.
Nobody got out.
Dad didn’t explain it.
“Get in the truck, Lily.”
Richard stepped closer.
“You’re not taking her anywhere.”
Dad looked at him.
“Watch me.”
Richard lifted the stack of papers.
“She leaves this property, she violates the agreement.”
“What agreement?” Dad asked.
“My agreement with my wife.”
Dad held out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
Richard laughed.
“You think because you played tough guy for thirty seconds, you suddenly understand what’s happening?”
Dad’s expression never changed.
“No. I understood before I walked through your door.”
Richard stopped smiling.
That sentence hit me too.
“Dad?”
He glanced at me.
“Truck.”
I obeyed.
For the first time in months, somebody was giving Richard orders instead of me.
Dad photographed every page Richard was holding without touching the originals.
Then he took pictures of my bruised shoulder, the leather strap on the grass, and the Easter table Richard had backed into.
He was methodical.
Too methodical.
Richard noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Preserving what happened.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“My daughter called me.”
“I never called him!” I said.
Richard turned on me.
Exactly the reaction Dad seemed to expect.
He lifted my cracked phone.
“You didn’t have to.”
That confused me.
Then Dad pointed toward my little brown bag.
“You triggered the emergency message when you pressed the side button five times.”
I stared at the phone.
Three weeks earlier, Dad had quietly changed one setting.
He said it was because I kept dropping the phone.
I had forgotten about it.
Richard hadn’t known.
Dad had received my location and twelve seconds of audio before entering the house.
Including Richard threatening me.
The papers in Richard’s hand suddenly looked less powerful.
But only slightly.
Because one page contained my signature.
Another contained Dad’s.
And I knew neither of us had signed them.
Dad zoomed in on the photographs.
His eyes stopped on a small logo at the bottom.
Hawthorne Legal Services.
Richard saw him recognize it.
His face tightened.
“You know them?”
Dad didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked toward the black SUV.
Then back at Richard.
“I know exactly what they do.”
My stomach turned.
“What do they do?”
Dad finally looked at me.
“They make dirty paperwork look legitimate.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
And that was the first moment I understood:
May you like
The documents weren’t Richard’s weapon.
They were evidence of something much bigger.
