Chapter 2
The locksmith worked quickly.
By noon, every lock in the house had been changed.
I handed Harrison and Sloan each one key.
"Thirty days," I reminded them.
Sloan took the key like it was a dead insect.
Harrison looked like he might cry.
I went to my lawyer's office that afternoon.
His name was David.
He'd been Richard's lawyer too.
He'd known us for thirty years.
I told him everything.
The cake.
The purse.
The fight.
The thirty-day notice.
And what I'd overheard.
Sloan's plan to have me declared incompetent.
David's face got darker and darker as I spoke.
"That's elder abuse," he said when I finished. "Attempted financial exploitation. It's criminal."
"What can I do?" I asked.
"First, we protect your assets," he said. "We put the house in an irrevocable trust. We move your savings into accounts they can't touch. We make sure nothing is in your name alone that they can get access to."
He paused.
"Second, we document everything. Every insult. Every threat. Every thing they've taken or damaged. Every conversation you've overheard. The more evidence we have, the better."
"And third?"
"Third, we go on the offensive," he said. "Sloan is planning to accuse you of incompetence? We beat her to it. We have you evaluated by three independent doctors. We get statements from friends, neighbors, your doctor. Everyone who can testify that you're sharp as a tack. And then we file for a restraining order against Sloan. For harassment. For financial exploitation. For emotional distress."
I nodded.
"Let's do it."
David smiled.
"Your husband always said you were tougher than you looked."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I miss him," I said.
"I know," David said. "But he'd be proud of you right now. Standing up for yourself. Protecting what's yours."
I left his office feeling lighter.
Stronger.
Ready.
But when I got home, there was a police car in the driveway.
My stomach dropped.
Sloan had called them.
I walked inside.
Two officers were standing in the living room.
Sloan was sitting on the couch.
Crying.
Harrison was standing beside her.
Looking miserable.
"Mrs. Caldwell?" one of the officers said.
"Yes?"
"We've had a report of elder abuse," he said. "Your daughter-in-law claims you've been threatening her. That you're mentally unstable. That you're a danger to yourself and others."
I looked at Sloan.
She was still crying.
Fake tears.
Performing for the officers.
"That's not true," I said calmly. "I'm perfectly stable. My daughter-in-law is upset because I burned her purse after she deliberately knocked over my birthday cake. And because I've asked her and my son to move out of my house."
The officer looked at Sloan.
"Is that true?" he asked. "Did you knock over her cake?"
"It was an accident," Sloan said. "She's been very emotional lately. Ever since her husband died. She's been forgetting things. She got confused and thought I did it on purpose. And then she burned my purse. A very expensive purse. And now she's trying to throw us out. We have nowhere to go."
She was good.
I'll give her that.
But I was better.
"I have witnesses," I said. "My friend Brenda was here. Several neighbors were here. They all saw her knock over that cake. And they all heard her say 'Oops' like it was a joke."
I pulled out my phone.
I showed them the video I'd taken that morning.
Of Sloan wearing my robe.
Of her saying they would start the paperwork that day.
I'd set up my phone to record before I opened the door for the locksmith.
Just in case.
The officers watched the video.
Their expressions changed.
Sloan's face went white.
"You recorded me?" she whispered.
"I protect what's mine," I said.
The officers turned to Sloan.
"Ma'am," one of them said. "We're not going to arrest anyone today. But we need to make it clear. Filing a false police report is a crime. And threatening to file for guardianship under false pretenses is also a crime. If you have evidence that Mrs. Caldwell is incompetent, you need to present it to the courts properly. But if you don't…"
He let the threat hang.
They left a few minutes later.
Sloan stood up.
Her face was twisted with rage.
"You think you're so smart," she said. "Recording me. Setting me up. You'll regret this. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"I think I do," I said. "And I'm ready."
She stormed up the stairs.
Harrison followed.
I heard their door slam.
I sat down on the couch.
My hands were shaking.
But I felt good.
I'd won the first round.
But the war was just beginning.
That evening, Brenda came over.
She brought wine.
"I heard what happened," she said. "From the neighbors. Everyone is talking about it. They're all on your side, Lorraine. Everyone saw what Sloan did. Everyone knows she's trouble."
"Thank you," I said.
It was good to have a friend.
Brenda had been my best friend for forty years.
She'd been there when I married Richard.
She'd been there when Harrison was born.
She'd been there when Richard died.
And she was here now.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do about Harrison?" she asked.
I sighed.
"I don't know," I said. "He's my son. But he's not the boy I raised. Not anymore. Sloan has changed him."
"She's poisoned him against you," Brenda said. "But maybe he can be saved. Maybe if he sees what she really is…"
"Maybe," I said.
But I wasn't sure.
Harrison had chosen her.
Over and over again.
He'd chosen her over me.
Over his father's memory.
Over everything.
And I didn't know if he could ever choose me again.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I went downstairs.
I made tea.
I sat in the living room.
Looking at Richard's photograph.
Sloan had moved it to the bookshelf.
Tucked between two novels.
Like it didn't matter.
I picked it up.
I wiped the dust off the frame.
I held it to my chest.
"I need you, Richard," I whispered. "I need your strength. I need your wisdom. I don't know if I can do this alone."
And then I heard it.
A sound from upstairs.
Not arguing.
Not talking.
Something else.
Sloan was on the phone.
Her voice was low.
But I could hear her through the heating vent.
"…yes, she's being difficult," she was saying. "But I have a plan. Harrison will sign the papers. He'll do whatever I tell him. And once we have guardianship, the house is ours. We can sell it by the end of the month. And then we'll be together. Just like we planned."
She paused.
"Of course I love you," she said. "Harrison is just a means to an end. You're the one I want. And once we have Lorraine's money, we can start over. Somewhere far away. No one will ever find us."
I froze.
Sloan was having an affair.
She didn't love Harrison.
She was using him.
For my house.
For my money.
For everything.
And Harrison had no idea.
I felt sick.
But I also felt a cold, clear anger.
She was going to destroy my son.
Take everything from him.
And then leave him with nothing.
Not if I could help it.
I quietly pulled out my phone.
May you like
I held it up to the vent.
And I recorded every word.
