Chapter 33 - The Podcast
I listened to the episode with Audrey.
That was our compromise.
She insisted I not hear it alone.
Dad wanted to join us.
I refused.
Not because he was fragile.
Because he deserved one morning when our family was not entertainment.
Marcus Vale had a smooth voice.
The kind built for microphones and certainty.
He introduced Cliff as “a father who lost his business, marriage, and reputation after a family dispute spiraled into criminal accusations.”
Criminal accusations.
As though those had fallen from the sky.
Cliff sounded older.
More tired.
For three minutes, he almost sounded reasonable.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
He admitted mistakes.
He said money had been mismanaged.
He said he regretted “blurred boundaries.”
Then he changed direction.
“The public never heard what Laurel gained.”
I felt Audrey stiffen beside me.
Marcus asked, “What do you mean?”
Cliff described the Northlight settlement.
Not accurately.
But accurately enough to reveal access to information he should not be sharing.
He suggested I had received “a very significant payment” after publicly attacking a charitable organization.
Then he said I had placed money “into private family accounts.”
Marcus made a thoughtful sound.
“So the woman accusing others of monetizing tragedy made money from the controversy?”
I laughed.
Audrey paused the recording.
“What?”
“I understand why people throw radios.”
“Ready?”
“No.”
She pressed play.
Cliff accused Dad of financing my legal strategy.
He accused Bryn of cooperating against him to protect herself.
He accused my mother of changing her testimony because she feared losing access to the twins.
Then he said something that ended any temptation I had to dismiss the podcast as pathetic.
“Laurel controls the story because she controls the children.”
My body became cold.
Marcus asked what he meant.
“The twins. My son. She uses access as leverage.”
Audrey stopped the episode again.
“That statement matters.”
I barely heard her.
Cliff continued after the break.
He said Grant had been “absorbed into Laurel’s version of the family.”
He suggested I encouraged Grant to reject his father.
That was false.
More importantly, Grant was a child.
A child already trying to understand how to love a man whose choices had hurt people.
Now his father had put that conflict online.
I called Bryn.
She answered immediately.
“I heard it.”
Her voice sounded wrecked.
“Where’s Grant?”
“School.”
“Does he know?”
“No.”
“He will.”
“I know.”
For once, neither of us argued.
Bryn’s attorney contacted Cliff’s attorney regarding custody provisions restricting public discussion of Grant’s private family circumstances.
Audrey sent Marcus Vale a letter demanding correction of several factual statements and removal of private financial material.
He responded publicly.
Not to us.
Online.
FREE SPEECH IS NOT DEFAMATION.
Hannah read it over my shoulder.
“Do men who type free speech in capital letters receive a starter kit?”
“I think there’s a newsletter.”
The article from Jenna Morales appeared the next afternoon.
I opened it expecting another disaster.
Instead, I found something careful.
She reported that an anonymous complaint had been filed.
She also reported that the community foundation had found no current evidence of misuse and was conducting routine review.
She stated that the educational account was funded through a private civil settlement unrelated to grant donations.
Most importantly, she wrote that the bank screenshot circulating online appeared to come from a legal filing rather than grant records.
Facts.
Boring.
Beautiful facts.
The comments were still ugly.
But less certain.
Marcus responded with another episode teaser.
WHAT ARE THEY HIDING?
Nico saw it at school.
A classmate showed him.
He came home furious.
Not crying.
Furious.
“Why does Uncle Cliff get to say Dad’s name?”
“He doesn’t own it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I sat across from him.
“No. I can’t stop every person from saying Dad’s name.”
Nico’s eyes burned.
“Then what was all that fighting for?”
The question hurt because it was fair.
“To stop people from using him without consequences.”
“That sounds like lawyer words.”
“Probably.”
He stood.
“I hate lawyer words.”
“So do I.”
He walked toward the stairs.
Then stopped.
“Are you going to sue Uncle Cliff?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked back.
“Can I say what I want?”
“Yes.”
“I think he sucks.”
“Nico.”
“You said I could say it.”
I covered my mouth.
Somewhere inside my grief, Evan laughed.
That night, Audrey called.
“We found something interesting.”
“What?”
“The anonymous complaint was mailed from Indiana.”
I closed my eyes.
Still not proof.
But the circle was getting smaller.
Then she added, “And Jenna’s source gave her something Cliff never had.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“A photograph of Evan’s blue shoebox.”
The room disappeared around me.
May you like
Because the shoebox was in my bedroom.
And almost nobody knew what was inside.
