Chapter 7: What My Mother Came to Take Back
"Tell them no," I said.
Nina nodded and disappeared.
My father stood up from the edge of the bed.
"She'll push," he said.
It wasn't a defense of her.
Just a statement of fact, the way he'd always spoken about her — accurately, and too late.
"Let her push," I said.
"She's not getting in."
He sat back down.
Gerald was still on his phone in the corner, speaking quietly to someone at his office about the protective order paperwork.
I could hear him reading off case numbers.
The words had a steadiness to them that I found I needed in the room.
Three minutes later, Nina was back.
"She's saying she has a medical right to be here.
She's telling the desk you're her minor child."
"I'm twenty-nine years old."
"I told them that." Nina's expression was carefully neutral.
"She's also saying your husband called her and told her you've been manipulated by someone and you need family support."
My father made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
"She can say whatever she wants," I said.
"She is not coming up."
Nina left again.
Gerald finished his call.
"The paperwork will be ready for your signature within the hour.
I've also asked my office to contact the financial crimes unit directly about the recorded call.
They'll want a copy."
"What about Marcus?
Where is he right now?"
"I have someone making inquiries.
He hasn't gone to the bank — I checked.
He hasn't contacted Alderman and Poole directly, though I expect he will try." Gerald set his phone on the folder.
"The most important thing right now is getting the estate acceptance documents signed before he can file any kind of challenge."
"Then let's do that now."
"Are you sure?
You've had a difficult night."
I looked at him.
"I'm sure," I said.
He opened the briefcase.
For the next forty minutes, I signed documents.
Gerald explained each one before I touched it.
I read every page.
My father sat beside me and didn't rush me once, which was the kindest thing he had done in years.
When the last page was signed, Gerald gathered the folder and looked at me with something close to relief.
"The estate is yours," he said.
"Formally and completely."
I nodded.
"The house in Dayton," I said.
"Is it livable?"
"Ruth kept it in good condition.
The utilities are still connected — the estate has been covering them.
It needs some updating, but nothing structural." He paused.
"It has three bedrooms."
I thought about the room I'd been renting in the apartment Marcus had chosen, in the building Marcus had chosen, near his office, near his friends, near everything that was his and nothing that was mine.
Three bedrooms.
"I want to go there when I'm discharged," I said.
"I can arrange that."
My father cleared his throat.
"I'd like to drive you.
If you'll let me."
I looked at him.
"We'll see," I said.
"Let's get through today first."
He accepted that.
He didn't push.
That was new.
At 3:15, my phone buzzed again.
This time it was a text from Marcus.
No words.
Just a photograph.
I opened it.
It was a screenshot of a bank transfer confirmation.
Dated that morning.
The amount was forty-three thousand dollars.
The destination account was one I didn't recognize.
He'd moved the money.
I handed the phone to Gerald without a word.
He looked at the screen.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"He's trying to get ahead of the freeze," Gerald said.
"This is exactly what the financial crimes unit needs." He was already dialing.
"Don't respond to him.
Don't acknowledge the message."
"I won't."
He stepped into the corner.
I lay back against the pillow.
The monitor beeped steadily.
My daughter shifted again, a long slow movement that pressed against my ribs on the right side.
"Hey," I said quietly, to no one in the room.
Just to her.
My father heard me.
He looked at the monitor, then at me.
"Does she have a name yet?" he asked.
"I've been thinking about Ruth," I said.
His face did the thing again.
The thing I'd never seen it do before today.
"Your grandmother would have loved that," he said.
"I know," I said.
"That's why."
Gerald came back from the corner.
His expression had shifted.
"The financial crimes unit is moving to freeze the accounts today," he said.
"All of them, including the one he just transferred to.
They're treating the screenshot as evidence of active asset concealment." He paused.
"They want to speak with you tomorrow morning.
In person."
"I'll be here."
"There's one more thing." He hesitated.
"Marcus's attorney contacted my office twenty minutes ago."
"He already has an attorney?"
"He called one this morning.
Apparently before he called you." Gerald looked at me steadily.
"His attorney is proposing a settlement.
They want to negotiate before any criminal charges are formally filed."
The room was very quiet.
"What kind of settlement?" I asked.
"They're proposing he returns the forty thousand from the brokerage accounts in exchange for you declining to cooperate with the financial crimes investigation."
I stared at him.
"He wants me to protect him," I said.
"Yes."
"From the consequences of what he did to me."
"Yes."
I thought about the eight months of letters.
The signed power of attorney with the wrong loop on the R.
The work phone call and the flat cold voice telling me I had nothing.
"Tell his attorney no," I said.
"Tell him I said no."
Gerald nodded once.
He picked up his phone.
May you like
My father reached over and put his hand on mine again.
This time I turned my hand over and held it.
