Chapter 32 - The Story Someone Wanted
The reporter’s name was Jenna Morales.
She worked for a regional investigative website I recognized because Audrey had once sent me one of their articles about nonprofit fraud.
That was not comforting.
Her email was professional.
No accusation.
No dramatic language.
She wanted comment on allegations involving the Evan Pike Curiosity Grant.
I forwarded it to Audrey.
Then I did something I had become better at doing.
Nothing.
Five years earlier, I would have answered immediately.
I would have explained everything in six paragraphs, added three apologies nobody deserved, then spent all night wondering whether I sounded defensive.
Now I made spaghetti.
Arlo complained about mushrooms.
Nico explained why Mars sunsets were blue.
Dad came for Thursday dinner and attempted to understand orbital mechanics while putting parmesan cheese on everything.
Normal life was not denial.
It was a boundary.
After dinner, Audrey called.
“Jenna appears legitimate.”
“That doesn’t mean I want my children in an article.”
“She knows that.”
“How?”
“I told her.”
I smiled slightly.
“What does she have?”
“A copy of the complaint and something else.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“A bank record.”
Silence.
“What bank record?”
“A screenshot showing a deposit into the educational account after the Northlight settlement.”
I sat down.
“That account is private.”
“Yes.”
“How did she get it?”
“She won’t identify her source.”
The screenshot did not show the full account number, but it showed my name, the deposit date, and enough information to prove the money existed.
Someone had accessed a document they should not possess.
Audrey’s voice became sharper.
“This changes things.”
“Because?”
“The complaint is one issue. Obtaining private financial information is another.”
I thought of Cliff immediately.
But Cliff had never had access to that account.
Then I remembered something.
The account had been referenced in documents during Grant’s custody proceedings.
Not because the boys’ money mattered to custody.
Because Cliff’s attorney had once tried to argue that I had profited from “destroying” Bryn’s family business.
The court had rejected the argument.
But supporting records had existed.
Bryn called twenty minutes later.
“Audrey contacted my attorney.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t give anyone those documents.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You thought it.”
“Yes.”
That honesty made her quiet.
Finally she said, “Fair.”
“Who else had them?”
“My attorney. Cliff’s attorney. Cliff.”
There it was.
Not proof.
Access.
Bryn continued.
“Grant told me something last week.”
Every part of me became still.
“What?”
“Cliff has been asking him questions about you.”
“What questions?”
“How often he visits. Whether the boys talk about the grant. Whether Grandpa gives you money.”
I stood.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I told Cliff to stop, and I didn’t want to drag you into every stupid thing he does.”
“That decision involved my children.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“I know. I made the wrong call.”
I closed my eyes.
Old anger arrived quickly.
So did something newer.
Bryn had admitted the mistake before I forced her.
“Tell me everything Grant said.”
Cliff had apparently begun recording a podcast.
Not professionally.
At least not yet.
A man from Indiana named Marcus Vale had a small online show about “family court corruption.”
Cliff had appeared twice.
I searched his name.
Audrey had warned me about searching.
I searched anyway.
The episode title appeared immediately.
WHEN ONE WOMAN DESTROYS A FAMILY.
I did not press play.
I sent the link to Audrey.
Then I went upstairs.
Nico was reading.
Arlo was making another list.
“What’s that?”
“Things Biscuit can still hear.”
I looked at our ancient dog sleeping beside the bed.
“What have you got?”
“Cheese wrapper. Garage door. Grandpa saying walk.”
“Accurate.”
I sat between them.
“There may be people online talking about our family again.”
Nico shut his book.
“Because of the complaint?”
“Yes.”
Arlo’s pencil stopped.
“Are we famous?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Nico studied me.
“Are you scared?”
I considered lying.
Then I remembered what secrecy had cost us.
“A little.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
That was all.
No demand that I protect him with false certainty.
No demand that he protect me by pretending not to notice.
Downstairs, my phone buzzed.
Audrey.
Do not listen to the podcast yet.
I smiled despite everything.
She knew me too well.
A second message followed.
Marcus Vale just emailed me.
He says tomorrow’s episode is about you.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Someone wanted my story again.
This time, they wanted me to be the villain.
