Chapter 18 - The Letter He Never Got
Elliot's letter was simple. He loved his son. He was recovering. He wanted to explain why he'd left and hoped Nick would meet him for lunch when he was ready. There were no excuses, no accusations. Just a father asking for one hour.
Nick held the paper against his chest. “She told me he never tried.”
I didn't tell him it was okay. It wasn't. I put my arms around him and let him grieve a childhood he'd been lied into surviving.
The next morning Nick called Elliot and asked him to come over. They spent three hours talking on our porch. I could see their hands moving, sometimes angry, sometimes still. When Elliot finally left, Nick came inside looking exhausted and lighter.
“I won't make you responsible for fixing me,” he said.
“Good,” I answered. “Because I have my own healing to do.”
He smiled a little. “Could we find a counselor? Someone outside this family?”
“I'd like that.”
Martha, meanwhile, had hired a public-relations firm and claimed I was conducting a vendetta over a haircut. But Sloane gave investigators her emails, the developer produced the original purchase papers under subpoena, and a handwriting examiner identified significant inconsistencies in the disputed signatures. Vivian's lawyers began negotiating cooperation after the developer demanded repayment.
Months passed. An amended court order prevented further transfers while the ownership case proceeded. The county reviewed the charitable trust's records. The wedding assault was investigated separately. Nothing happened as fast as a television courtroom scene.
Then Martha requested a private meeting with Nick. No lawyer, she insisted. Just mother and son.
He answered with a single message: I will meet you only with counsel present, and Anna owes you nothing.
May you like
Martha replied with a photograph of my severed braid in a velvet box.
Under it she wrote: I STILL HAVE SOMETHING SHE WANTS.
