Chapter 7 - MARTHA’S HOUSE
Martha’s house looked exactly like her.
Neat.
Heavy furniture.
Plastic runners on the carpet.
Family photos arranged so Andrew and Ethan stood front and center.
There were only two pictures of Sophie.
One was crooked.
I went there with Patricia, not Andrew.
Martha opened the door and immediately tried to shut it again.
Patricia placed one hand against the frame.
“We need Ethan’s files.”
Martha laughed.
“You have no authority.”
Patricia smiled politely.
“That is not the sentence you want to build your day around.”
Martha’s face tightened.
She let us in.
The files were in the basement.
Of course they were.
Four plastic bins labeled in Martha’s handwriting.
School.
Medical.
Andrew.
Jenna.
My stomach turned at that last name.
Martha had made Jenna a category.
Inside were returned letters, printed emails, copies of legal drafts, notes from phone calls, and one envelope containing cash receipts.
Jenna had sent child-support money informally for almost two years.
Andrew claimed he never saw it.
Martha said it was “not enough to matter.”
I stared at her.
“You took money from Ethan’s mother and told him she didn’t care?”
Martha’s chin lifted.
“I used it for him.”
“No.”
I looked at the receipts.
Some were for Ethan.
Shoes.
School supplies.
Others were Martha’s household bills.
Gas.
Groceries.
A payment toward her credit card.
“You used him.”
Her face hardened.
“I protected that boy.”
“From his mother?”
“From chaos.”
“And Sophie?”
She waved one hand.
“This is not about your daughter.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Because it was all connected.
Martha believed children belonged in ranks.
Boys first.
Girls trained to accept less.
Mothers judged by whether they obeyed.
Grandmothers allowed to rewrite history if they called it protection.
Sophie’s snack on the floor was not a separate cruelty.
It was the same system in miniature.
Take from the girl.
Feed the boy.
Call the hunger a lesson.
Call the lie protection.
Patricia collected copies.
Martha watched us with furious eyes.
At the door, she said:
“You’re destroying Andrew.”
I turned back.
“No. I’m returning what you stole.”
May you like
“For Jenna?”
“For Ethan.”
