Chapter 6 - PRUDENCE STOPPED PROTECTING OUR MOTHER
Derek Walsh wanted money.
Of course he did.
According to Rebecca’s investigator, he had refused a second conversation unless an attorney contacted him.
That was fine.
We had something more important now.
He knew.
And he knew that we knew he knew.
People become less comfortable carrying secrets once the secret has a name.
Meanwhile, something unexpected happened at the mansion.
Prudence called me.
Not texted.
Called.
“Can you meet me?”
“No.”
“Caleb, please.”
“Put it in writing.”
She cursed.
“You’re acting like I’m a criminal.”
I said nothing.
That silence bothered her more than an accusation.
Finally she whispered, “Mom is blaming everything on me.”
There it was.
Cracks.
“Everything?”
“The accounts. The house. Sarah.”
“Should she?”
“No!”
“Then send me what happened.”
“I can’t.”
“You just said it didn’t happen.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I almost smiled.
“You two should coordinate your stories better.”
“Stop being a jerk.”
“My son was hungry.”
Silence.
That sentence ended almost every argument.
Prudence lowered her voice.
“I didn’t know it got that bad.”
“You brought roasted chicken into the room where he was eating spoiled rice.”
“She told me Sarah had food.”
“You saw the plate.”
“I thought Sarah was being dramatic.”
“Jamie was dramatic too?”
“He was always whining.”
I closed my eyes.
She heard herself.
For once, Prudence had no response.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To meet.”
“Rebecca’s office.”
“No lawyers.”
“Then no meeting.”
She hung up.
Twenty minutes later she called again.
“Fine.”
The next afternoon, Prudence sat across from me in Rebecca Sloan’s conference room.
Without makeup, without the dresses and the practiced smile, my sister looked smaller.
But not innocent.
Rebecca placed a recorder on the table.
“We will make a record of this conversation with everyone’s knowledge.”
Prudence frowned.
“Whatever.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Start wherever you want.”
Prudence looked at me.
“I didn’t invent the trust.”
“Who did?”
“Mom.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
“She said the house needed protection because you were overseas.”
“Protection from what?”
“Sarah.”
I almost stood.
Rebecca put one hand slightly toward me.
Stay.
Prudence continued.
“Mom said if you ever divorced, Sarah would take everything.”
“Sarah was my wife.”
“I know.”
“Did I ask Mom to protect the house from her?”
“No.”
The word filled the room.
Rebecca wrote something.
“What about Derek Walsh?”
Prudence stared at the table.
“I knew him.”
“How?”
“He did some work at the house.”
“What did he do?”
“Mom paid him.”
“For what?”
“To sign papers.”
My heartbeat became heavy.
“You watched someone sign my name?”
“I didn’t think—”
“You watched someone sign my name?”
“Yes!”
Her voice cracked.
Silence.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Ten thousand.”
Ten thousand dollars.
Apparently that was what my identity was worth.
“Who found him?”
“Mom.”
“Who gave him my identification?”
“Mom.”
“Who told Monica Reyes he was me?”
Prudence swallowed.
“I did.”
Rebecca glanced at me.
I did not move.
“What about my bank accounts?”
Prudence shook her head.
“That was Mom.”
“Did you receive any money?”
Silence.
“Prudence.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“She paid things.”
“What things?”
“My car.”
“What else?”
“Credit cards.”
“What else?”
“My apartment before I moved back.”
“What else?”
“Trips.”
“What else?”
“Caleb, stop.”
“What else?”
She started crying.
I felt nothing.
Not because she was my sister.
Because Sarah had cried too.
Jamie had cried.
Nobody had stopped for them.
Prudence wiped her face.
“She said it was family money.”
“Whose family?”
“Ours.”
“Sarah and Jamie are my family.”
“I know that now.”
“No. You knew it then.”
She looked away.
Rebecca asked, “What happened to Sarah?”
Prudence became quiet.
“Mom hated her.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
Prudence stared at me.
“Because you loved her more.”
I frowned.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Mom didn’t think so.”
“She’s my wife.”
“That was the problem.”
Prudence explained.
After my father died, Gertrude had become emotionally dependent on me.
I had handled repairs.
Bills.
Emergencies.
Prudence’s tuition.
Mom’s medical appointments.
Then I married Sarah.
Then Jamie came.
Then I poured my savings into the mansion because I wanted a home where everyone could gather.
My mother apparently saw something different.
She saw her son building another woman a palace.
“That house was supposed to be for all of us,” Prudence said.
“It was my home.”
“Mom said Dad would have wanted her protected.”
“She had her own home.”
“She sold it.”
“What?”
That was new.
“When?”
“Two years after you left.”
“Where did the money go?”
Prudence hesitated.
“She invested some.”
“In what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did it go into the mansion?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“I really don’t know.”
Rebecca intervened.
“What happened when Sarah asked for her own account?”
Prudence looked surprised.
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Mom got angry.”
“Why?”
“Because then you might start sending money directly to Sarah.”
“Which is exactly what should have happened.”
Prudence nodded.
“Mom told Sarah you refused.”
I felt sick.
“What did she tell me?”
“That Sarah didn’t want the responsibility.”
My chair scraped backward.
I walked to the window.
Five years.
Every bridge between my wife and me had been cut from both sides while my mother stood in the middle pretending to carry messages.
Rebecca continued.
“Did Gertrude ever use Caleb’s email?”
Prudence didn’t answer.
I turned.
“Did she?”
“She made one.”
“What?”
“A different email.”
The room became completely silent.
“What email?”
“It looked like yours.”
My chest tightened.
Same name.
Different punctuation.
A number changed.
Something easy to miss.
“She emailed Sarah?”
Prudence nodded.
“As me?”
“Yes.”
The word was almost inaudible.
“What did she write?”
“I didn’t see everything.”
“What did you see?”
Prudence covered her face.
“She told Sarah to stop asking for money.”
My breathing changed.
“What else?”
“She told her you were tired of the complaining.”
“What else?”
“She said you wanted Mom controlling the house.”
“What else?”
Prudence began crying harder.
“Caleb, I’m sorry.”
“What else?”
“She told Sarah that if she tried leaving with Jamie, you would fight her for custody.”
I gripped the back of the chair.
Everything Sarah had described now had a mechanism.
Not misunderstandings.
Not family dysfunction.
A system.
My mother had become me.
My email.
My signature.
My bank access.
My authority.
Then she had used that fake version of me to break my wife.
Rebecca’s face had gone hard.
“Do those emails still exist?”
Prudence nodded.
“Mom kept backups.”
“Where?”
Silence.
“Prudence.”
“The storage unit.”
The invoice.
Hillside Storage.
“What’s inside?”
Prudence looked at me.
“Your safe.”
My entire body went still.
“And?”
“Boxes.”
“What boxes?”
“Documents. Old phones. Files.”
“Why would she keep them?”
“Mom keeps everything.”
Rebecca was already writing.
“We may need legal process before accessing property rented in Gertrude’s name.”
Prudence leaned forward.
“There’s another way.”
Rebecca looked up.
“What?”
“The unit isn’t only in Mom’s name.”
My sister reached into her purse.
She placed a small silver key on the table.
“I’m listed too.”
I stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because she needed someone who could access it if anything happened.”
“And you’re giving us the key?”
Prudence nodded.
“On one condition.”
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“We are not negotiating immunity. We don’t control that.”
“I’m not asking that.”
Prudence looked at me.
“I want money.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
She stared.
“You stole from me for years, and your solution is asking me to pay you?”
“I need to leave.”
“Then leave.”
“Mom will destroy me.”
My smile disappeared.
“So now you understand how Sarah felt.”
Prudence lowered her eyes.
She pushed the key across the table anyway.
“No money.”
I didn’t touch it.
Rebecca did.
As the meeting ended, Prudence stood by the door.
“Caleb.”
I looked at her.
“There’s something else in the storage unit.”
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Videos.”
“What videos?”
“Security recordings.”
My stomach tightened.
May you like
“Of what?”
“Sarah.”
