Chapter 5: The File Built From Lies
Gabriel held the door open.
“Come inside, Celia.”
Celia tightened her grip on the folder.
“I think I should call Marlene tomorrow.”
“You billed Amelia’s trust for services delivered while she was at school.”
Marlene pushed between them.
“Celia, leave.”
Gabriel placed one hand against the door.
“If she leaves, I send these records to Westbridge without her explanation.”
Celia entered.
Everett pulled out a chair.
“Sit down and tell the truth.”
“The truth?” Marlene laughed once.
“Now you want courage?”
Celia put the folder on the table.
“Marlene said Gabriel approved a family-care arrangement.
She said Amelia needed supervision.”
“You met my daughter,” Gabriel said.
“What did you do with her?”
“I asked questions from an assessment form.”
“How many times?”
Celia glanced at Marlene.
“Three.”
“The trust paid for thirty-two sessions.”
“I didn’t submit thirty-two.”
Marlene reached for the folder, but Celia pulled it against her chest.
“Don’t,” Celia said.
“You told me the extra entries were administrative.”
Gabriel opened the file.
Inside were checklists describing Amelia as aggressive, destructive, and unable to eat without assistance.
“She eats by herself.”
Marlene folded her arms.
“You saw what happened with the water.”
“She spilled a glass.”
“She needs structure.”
“You made her eat on the floor so a false report would look believable.”
Celia covered her mouth.
“You told me she preferred it there.”
A sound came from the stairs.
Amelia stood halfway down, Biscuit pressed against her leg.
“She took pictures.”
Gabriel faced Celia.
“Pictures of what?”
Amelia gripped the railing.
“Grandma put my dinner by Biscuit and told me not to move.
The lady took pictures.”
Celia’s face lost its color.
“I thought it was an observation.”
“You saw a child on the floor,” Gabriel said.
“What exactly did you believe you were observing?”
Celia looked down.
“I should have stopped it.”
Marlene stepped toward Amelia.
“Go to your room.”
Gabriel moved in front of his daughter.
“You no longer tell her where she belongs.”
Celia opened the folder and removed a memory card.
“The photographs are here.
So are voice notes Marlene sent me.”
Marlene lunged for it.
Everett caught her wrist.
The card dropped, and Gabriel covered it with his shoe.
“You touch that evidence again,” he said, “and I call the police.”
“You ungrateful son,” Marlene whispered.
“I raised you.
I buried my own grief to help with your child.”
“You used Nora’s money and Amelia’s fear.”
Marlene pulled free.
“Prove it.”
A car door closed outside.
Two uniformed officers walked toward the porch, and Marlene smiled.
May you like
“I already called them,” she said.
“I told them an unstable father was threatening two women—and that his daughter was not safe with him.”
