Chapter 7
The weeks that followed were some of the hardest of my life.
But also some of the most healing.
Amy started therapy.
At first, she was nervous.
Scared to talk about what had happened.
But after a few sessions, she started to change.
She held her head higher.
She spoke with more confidence.
She started laughing again.
Real laughter.
The kind I had fallen in love with.
Frederick was doing better too.
His fever was gone.
He was crawling everywhere.
Getting into everything.
A happy, healthy baby boy.
I took time off work.
Not because I had to.
But because I wanted to.
I wanted to be there for my family.
I wanted to make up for lost time.
We went to the park.
We went for walks.
We ate dinner together every night.
Simple things.
Ordinary things.
And they were perfect.
But the legal process moved forward.
My mother was denied bail.
The judge called her a flight risk and a danger to the community.
She would remain in jail until her trial.
Sarah was building our civil case.
She had subpoenaed my mother's bank records.
And what we found was shocking.
In six months, my mother had spent over eighteen thousand dollars of my money.
On designer clothes.
Jewelry.
A new car.
Luxury vacations she had planned but never told me about.
Gambling debts for Mason.
And gifts for all the relatives who had been at the party.
Bribes, essentially.
Payment for their silence.
Their complicity.
"She spent every penny," Sarah told us in her office.
"Not one dollar went toward groceries or bills or anything for your family."
"She used your money to finance her lifestyle and buy loyalty."
Amy looked at the bank statements.
Her hand covered her mouth.
"All that money..." she whispered.
"We could have used it for Frederick's college fund."
"For a bigger house."
"For anything."
I squeezed her hand.
"We'll get it back," I said.
"Every penny."
Sarah nodded.
"With the criminal conviction, the civil case is almost guaranteed."
"We'll also be seeking damages for emotional distress."
"For what your wife went through."
She looked at Amy.
"You've been incredibly strong through all this."
"And the jury will see that."
The trial date was set for three months later.
The district attorney was pursuing multiple charges:
Assault on a police officer.
Trespassing.
Conspiracy to commit fraud.
Attempted grand theft.
And elder abuse charges related to the manipulation, though Amy wasn't elderly, the DA was pushing for enhanced penalties due to the presence of a child.
My mother pleaded not guilty.
Of course.
She was going to fight this.
She was going to try to make us look like the villains.
But we were ready.
We had the notebook.
We had Mason's testimony.
We had the bank records.
We had Amy's strength.
And we had the truth.
The truth was on our side.
And this time, it would win.
One evening, as we sat on the couch watching Frederick play with his blocks, Amy turned to me.
"Connor," she said.
"I want to testify."
I looked at her.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"I need to do this."
"For me. For us. For every woman who has ever been made to feel small in her own home."
"I need to look her in the eye and tell her she didn't break me."
I saw the fire in her eyes.
The same fire I had seen the night she decided to press charges.
My wife was a warrior.
And I was so proud of her.
"Okay," I said.
"I'll be right there with you."
She smiled.
"I know."
And as Frederick crawled into my lap, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Peace.
May you like
We were going to get through this.
Together.
