Chapter 6
The days following Vanessa’s arrest were strange and exhausting. Reporters called. Relatives texted. Lawyers phoned with updates.
Vanessa denied everything at first. Claimed the recordings were doctored. That I was framing her to get her out of the way. That my mother had made up the entire story at my direction.
Then the bank records were released. The paper trail laid bare every stolen cent. Every lie she had told me about bills and expenses had been a theft. Months of draining accounts while smiling into my face.
My lawyer called me one evening. “She is looking at serious prison time unless she pleads guilty and makes full restitution. Her defense has no legs to stand on. And she knows it.”
“She should pay every penny back,” I said. “And then some.”
I moved my mother into a small, quiet house by the sea that week. Away from the home where she had suffered. Away from memories of Vanessa. Fresh air. Sunlight. A garden she could tend without fear.
She improved visibly. Stooped shoulders straightened. The shadows faded slowly from beneath her eyes. But she remained quiet. Hesitant. As if expecting Vanessa to walk through the door at any moment.
One afternoon, she sat beside me on the porch. “Do you think… part of her ever loved you?”
I thought about it. Long and hard. The smiles. The kisses. The promises she had whispered beside me at night.
“No,” I said finally. “She loved what I had. What she could take. There was never any love in it. Only hunger. And hunger always leaves you empty.”
My mother nodded slowly. “I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I did not want to break your heart. I thought… perhaps you would see. In time.”
May you like
“I should have seen,” I admitted. “I chose not to. Because she told me what I wanted to hear. And you told me what I did not want to believe. That was my failure. Not yours.”
She reached out and squeezed my hand. “You see it now. That is what matters.”
