Chapter 6 - WHAT DAD BELIEVED
“What did he tell you?”
Dad didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Grace guided us into the living room and shut the glass doors behind us.
Damon and Lacey remained outside after Grace told them the property owner had revoked permission for them to enter the house.
Damon laughed when Dad said it.
Then Dad produced the title record on his phone.
The laughter stopped.
I stood beside the sofa with the cashmere blanket still around me.
“Dad.”
He sat.
“Damon said you’d become unpredictable.”
“How?”
“He sent emails.”
“From himself?”
“From you.”
My pulse kicked.
Dad opened his inbox.
The messages came from my address.
They sounded almost like me.
That was the worst part.
Dad, I’m overwhelmed.
Damon is trying to help, but I keep losing track of things.
Maybe it’s better if he handles company matters until after the baby comes.
Another:
Please don’t call tonight. I can’t take another argument.
Another:
I signed the temporary management paperwork. I know you’ll understand.
I stared at them.
“I wrote none of this.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I know that now.”
“Did you know it then?”
“No.”
The word hurt.
“You believed him.”
“I believed my daughter was struggling and didn’t want her father interrogating her while she was pregnant.”
“You didn’t call me because an email told you not to?”
“I called twice.”
I remembered two missed calls during prenatal appointments and a charity luncheon.
I had texted him later.
Those messages were missing from his phone.
Grace took the device.
“Your texts with Claire have gaps.”
Dad looked up.
“I never delete texts.”
We checked my cloud account from Grace’s computer.
My password no longer worked.
Recovery email had been changed.
Damon had not just manufactured messages.
Someone had been actively controlling my communications.
Grace contacted the email provider’s account recovery team.
While she worked, Dad stood at the window watching Damon pace across the patio.
“I should have asked harder questions.”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He flinched.
I didn’t soften it.
He had come home and saved me.
He had also unknowingly helped Damon build the cage long before the cedar door closed.
Outside, Damon pointed toward the driveway.
A black sedan pulled in.
A man stepped out carrying a leather briefcase.
Grace recognized him.
“Brent Shaw.”
Damon’s attorney.
Brent stopped at the edge of the patio.
“My client is leaving this property,” he announced. “And tomorrow morning, we will address Charles Bennett’s assault and Claire Bennett’s escalating instability through proper channels.”
Then he handed Grace an envelope.
Inside was a petition seeking an emergency protective order against Dad.
May you like
Damon was turning the slap that saved me into his first counterattack.
📖 My father’s mistake had given Damon credibility, and now Damon was using that mistake to separate me from the only person standing between us. 👇
