Chapter 7 - The Final Inventory
The following week was marked by frantic packing. Moving vans could not be scheduled on short notice, so David was forced to rent a cheap commercial haul trailer, spending his evenings dragging boxes down the stairs under my watchful eye.
Thomas Richardson had sent two bonded security professionals to remain on the property during the final forty-eight hours. They sat discreetly in the living room, ensuring not a single item belonging to my forty years of marriage was slipped into the cardboard cartons.
On the twenty-ninth day, David carried down the last of their clothing. He stood in the entryway, looking around the home he was now leaving in disgrace.
""Are you happy now, Mom?"" he asked bitterly, wiping sweat from his forehead. ""You got your house back. You get to be entirely alone. Just you, your memories, and your empty rooms. I hope it’s worth losing your son.""
""David,"" I said, standing at the base of the stairs with my hands folded. ""I didn't lose you today. I lost you the night you watched a stranger spit on the woman who gave you life and told her she deserved it. You chose to abandon our relationship long before I handed you those papers.""
He swallowed hard, unable to look me in the eye. ""Jessica wants to move to Arizona. She says she can't show her face around here anymore after that recording went around. We won't be coming back.""
""I know,"" I answered. ""And David? Regarding the trust your father established.""
He looked up, a faint, desperate flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. ""What about it?""
""The principal balance remains fully intact,"" I said. ""Your father stipulated that the funds are to be disbursed to you upon reaching the age of forty, or upon my passing—whichever occurs later. But there is a secondary clause. The executor holds absolute discretion to withhold disbursements if the beneficiary engages in acts of verified moral turpitude or domestic abuse against the surviving spouse.""
David’s breath caught in his throat. ""You wouldn't.""
""I won't have to,"" I told him gently. ""I have placed the trust under the independent administration of Richardson, Vance & Cole. If you ever harass me, if Jessica ever posts another lie about me, or if you ever step foot on this property uninvited, Thomas will file the petition to reallocate the entirety of that trust to the St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. The choice of how you conduct yourself in Arizona is entirely yours.""
May you like
Jessica blared the horn of their rented truck from the driveway. She didn't come inside to say goodbye. She didn't look at the house.
David lingered for three seconds in the doorway. He parted his lips as if to say something—perhaps an apology that was six months too late, perhaps another excuse. But nothing came out. He turned, walked down the brick path Arthur and I had laid with our own hands, climbed into the passenger seat, and drove away.
