Chapter 9 - Brenda’s OfferBrenda violated the protective order four days later.
She did not call.
She did not text.
She showed up at my grandmother’s front gate wearing a baseball cap, oversized sunglasses, and the same cream coat she had worn to court.
Security stopped her immediately.
I was upstairs studying calculus when Eleanor entered my room.
“Brenda is outside.”
My pencil froze.
“What?”
“She says she has information.”
“Call the police.”
“We already have.”
I stood.
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because she says she’ll only speak to you.”
I laughed.
“Absolutely not.”
“That was my response.”
Eleanor turned toward the door.
Then she stopped.
“She also says your father is planning to leave the country.”
That changed things.
Ten minutes later, I sat in the estate’s security office watching Brenda through a monitor.
She stood outside the gate with her arms wrapped around herself.
For once, she did not look polished.
She looked terrified.
Margaret arrived.
So did Agent Reyes.
Brenda was allowed into a detached security building after surrendering her phone and purse.
I watched from behind one-way glass.
Agent Reyes questioned her first.
She refused to speak.
“I want Chloe.”
Margaret looked at me.
“You don’t owe her anything.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
I entered.
Brenda’s eyes found me immediately.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “You look expensive.”
I almost turned around.
Some people could stand on the edge of a cliff and still complain about the scenery.
“What do you want?”
She leaned forward.
“Protection.”
“From whom?”
“Your father.”
I stared.
“The man you defended?”
“You don’t understand Richard.”
“I understand him pretty well.”
“No.”
For the first time, genuine fear appeared in her face.
“You understand the father. You don’t understand the businessman.”
She claimed Dad had hidden money in accounts she could not access.
She claimed he planned to fly to the Cayman Islands using a private aircraft arranged through an associate.
She claimed he had already purchased passports under alternate names.
Agent Reyes, listening through the wall, would hear everything.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Brenda looked at the camera.
“I know they’re listening.”
“Then tell them.”
“I need something first.”
Of course.
“What?”
“Two million dollars.”
I laughed.
She didn’t.
“You have ninety-two million coming.”
“So?”
“So two million is nothing.”
I leaned back.
“You locked me outside in a snowstorm.”
Her jaw tightened.
“We’ve established that.”
“No. I don’t think we have.”
“Chloe—”
“I knocked on the window.”
She looked away.
“You saw me.”
Silence.
“You looked directly at me.”
“I was angry.”
“And then you closed the curtains.”
She said nothing.
“I thought I was going to die.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“You didn’t.”
Something inside me settled.
There would be no apology.
Not because she did not understand.
Because she did.
She simply did not care.
“You’re right,” I said.
Relief flickered across her face.
“I didn’t die.”
I stood.
“So now I get to decide what happens with the life you didn’t care enough to protect.”
Her relief disappeared.
“I’m not paying you.”
She slammed her palm against the table.
“You stupid little girl! You have no idea what I know!”
“Then tell the FBI.”
“I need money!”
“That sounds like your problem.”
I turned.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
Brenda’s voice changed.
“Your father killed your mother.”
The room went silent.
I slowly turned around.
“What did you say?”
“He didn’t put a pillow over her face, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She swallowed.
“But he knew she was sick months before you did.”
My legs weakened.
“He intercepted medical correspondence. She wanted treatment in California. Richard refused because he was afraid she would meet with Eleanor while she was there.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“He delayed things.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ask Rebecca.”
My hands shook.
Brenda leaned forward.
“Your mother wanted to leave him.”
I could barely hear her.
“She had divorce papers.”
“No.”
“She was going to take you.”
“Stop.”
“She was going to expose the money.”
“Stop.”
“And Richard made sure she couldn’t.”
I lunged toward the table.
Margaret entered immediately.
“Chloe.”
I could not breathe.
“Get me out.”
Margaret took my arm.
Behind me, Brenda shouted.
“I have proof!”
I stopped.
Of course she did.
People like Brenda never confessed unless they had something to sell.
“What proof?”
“A recording.”
“Where?”
“Safe-deposit box.”
“What bank?”
“Money first.”
Agent Reyes entered.
“Mrs. Sterling, attempting to sell evidence related to a federal investigation is not going to improve your position.”
She turned pale.
“I want immunity.”
“That isn’t mine to promise.”
“I want a deal.”
“That conversation happens with prosecutors.”
Brenda looked at me.
“You think your grandmother can protect you from everything?”
I wiped tears from my face.
“No.”
“Then why trust her?”
“Because when she found me freezing, she opened her coat.”
Brenda went silent.
“You closed a curtain.”
I walked out.
That night, I could not sleep.
At two in the morning, I found Eleanor in the kitchen.
Apparently billionaires also ate leftover cheesecake when stressed.
She pushed the plate toward me.
I took a fork.
“Did Mom want to divorce Dad?”
Eleanor looked down.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
“Did you know?”
“She called me.”
“When?”
“Four months before she died.”
“And?”
“She wanted my help.”
“Did you give it?”
“I arranged an attorney and a house.”
“What happened?”
“Richard found out.”
I put down my fork.
“Everyone keeps telling me he found out.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“I begged her to leave immediately.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Because he threatened to take you.”
Again.
Always me.
I had been the chain he wrapped around my mother.
The realization made me sick.
Eleanor reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
Not because I hated her.
Because suddenly I hated everyone who had known pieces of my life that I had not.
“I need air.”
I walked outside.
The desert night was cold but not cruel.
Nothing like Christmas Eve.
Still, I put on shoes.
I would probably put on shoes before stepping into winter for the rest of my life.
At sunrise, Agent Reyes called.
Brenda had surrendered the safe-deposit key.
The recording existed.
It captured an argument between my parents three months before my mother died.
Mom’s voice was weak.
Dad’s was unmistakable.
“You walk out that door with Chloe,” he said, “and I will make sure you never see her again.”
Then Mom said something that made my entire body go still.
“You already stole her inheritance.”
A crash.
Then Dad:
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
The recording ended.
It did not prove he killed her.
But it proved something else.
May you like
My mother had been trying to save me long before I knew I needed saving.
And my father had spent nine years making sure I never knew.
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