“Richard,” I said quietly. “That isn’t true.”
Vanessa stood up.
“Isn’t it? A widow with no money and a teenage son who suddenly can’t stay off our mother’s porch? Don’t insult us!”
Joe’s hands curled into fists on his lap. I could feel him trembling, not from anger but from shame. He hated being looked at like that.
“We never asked her for anything,” I said.
“You didn’t have to ask,” Vanessa hissed. “You groomed her. You used your son to do it!”
My throat tightened.
“That isn’t true.”
For a moment, I almost did it. I almost grabbed Joe’s wrist and walked out of that office, leaving them to their dollar bills and their righteous fury, and never looked back. Because maybe they were right that the world worked that way.
Maybe kindness was just a long setup for humiliation.
Then I looked at my son.
He wasn’t looking at them anymore; he was looking at me, waiting to see what I would do. Waiting to learn, the way kids always are.
So, I stayed in my chair.
“Mr. Bennett,” I said. “Please continue.”
The lawyer gave me a slight nod.
