Chapter 3 - Lauren Calls At 2:13 A.M.
I did not return to my parents’ house.
Dad texted six times that afternoon.
The messages began angry.
You embarrassed your mother.
Then moral.
Family helps family.
Then threatening.
If you choose money over Lauren, don’t expect us to forget it.
Finally:
You recorded me without permission? You better think carefully about what you’re doing.
That message confirmed he had noticed the recorder.
I forwarded everything to Mara.
She replied with four words:
Do not engage tonight.
So I didn’t.
At 2:13 in the morning, my phone rang.
Lauren.
I sat up immediately.
“Are you okay?”
She was crying quietly.
“Did Dad really hurt you?”
I looked at the bruise on my arm.
“He grabbed me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do it.”
“I should’ve said something.”
I waited.
“Lauren, do you need sixty thousand dollars?”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do you need any money?”
“My tuition is already paid.”
The bedroom suddenly felt cold.
“By who?”
“I thought Mom and Dad.”
“For the whole year?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is Dad telling me you need money?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have no idea?”
Another long silence.
“Lauren.”
“He made me sign something.”
I swung my legs off the bed.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“What did it say?”
“He wouldn’t let me read everything.”
My stomach tightened.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Lauren had come home from campus one Friday evening.
Dad was waiting at the kitchen table with a stack of forms.
He told her they were related to financial aid and family tax planning.
She started reading.
He became impatient.
“He kept saying I was making everything difficult,” Lauren whispered.
“What did you sign?”
“There were three signature pages.”
“Did Mom sign too?”
“I think so.”
That mattered.
“Lauren, did you keep copies?”
“No.”
“Did he give you anything?”
“No.”
I paced beside my bed.
“Did you see any company names? Bank names? Anything?”
She hesitated.
“There was one word.”
“What?”
“Fairmont.”
I stopped.
“Fairmont what?”
“I don’t remember. Fairmont Capital maybe.”
I wrote it down.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Dad said it was private.”
“Lauren.”
“I know.”
“No. Listen to me. I’m not angry.”
She cried harder.
Then she said the sentence that changed the entire direction of the case.
“He also told me not to tell Mom what I signed.”
I sat back down.
“Mom was there.”
“No. She signed different papers another day.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw her crying in Dad’s office. When she came out, she asked me if I had signed anything.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Why?”
“Dad was behind her.”
There are moments when the family you think you know becomes something else while you are still standing inside it.
That was mine.
Dad was not scrambling to pay Lauren’s tuition.
He was moving papers around the house and making everyone sign them separately.
And whatever he was doing, he needed cash badly enough to demand my home.
“Lauren,” I said, “do not sign anything else.”
“What if he asks?”
“Say you need time.”
“He’ll know I told you.”
“Then don’t say anything. Just take pictures if you safely can.”
“I’m scared.”
That word destroyed whatever anger I still had toward her.
“You’re coming to my place tomorrow.”
“Dad won’t let me.”
“You’re twenty.”
Silence.
“I know.”
But the way she said it told me something else.
May you like
Legally, Lauren was an adult.
Emotionally, Dad had spent twenty years making sure she did not feel like one.
