Chapter 13
Bethany testified against Dad.
Not from courage.
From panic.
She claimed he manipulated her.
He claimed she was unstable.
Their loyalty dissolved like sugar in rain.
On the stand, Bethany admitted she hurt Rosie at dinner.
“She kept asking for her mother,” Bethany snapped. “She knows it bothers me.”
The prosecutor asked, “Why would a grieving child’s love for her dead mother bother you?”
Bethany’s face twisted.
“Because Elena always won.”
“Won what?”
Bethany looked at me.
“My brother.”
I felt sick.
I had spent years thinking Bethany was difficult.
Possessive.
Lonely.
I had not understood the depth of her resentment.
Or maybe I had not wanted to.
The prosecutor showed photos of Rosie’s arms.
“Did a four-year-old deserve this?”
Bethany cried.
“I didn’t mean to bruise her.”
“But you meant to hurt her.”
Silence.
Then Bethany whispered, “Yes.”
Dad closed his eyes.
When he testified, he tried to sound noble.
“Elena was taking my son away from his family.”
The prosecutor played Elena’s video.
You need help.
Then Dad demanding her laptop.
Then Victor near the car.
Dad’s face collapsed.
The prosecutor asked, “Did you love your granddaughter?”
“Yes.”
“Then why threaten her father?”
He had no answer.
May you like
Because control is not love.
It only wears love’s clothes.
