Chapter 11 - Susan’s Last Bargain
Susan asked to speak to me one final time.
Her attorney was present.
So was Mara.
Susan no longer wore pearls.
Her face looked tired.
There were no carefully rehearsed expressions left.
“I made terrible decisions.”
I waited.
“I thought I was helping Daniel.”
“You were helping yourself too.”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
That answer surprised everyone.
She folded her hands.
“My husband controlled most of our finances.”
Robert later told me that was misleading.
They had shared accounts.
Susan simply hated having to explain her spending.
She had also made several unsuccessful private investments.
When Daniel came to her with gambling debt, they created DSR Consulting.
At first, Susan believed they would move temporary funds, cover Daniel’s losses, and repay everything.
Then Daniel lost more.
Susan lost more.
The hole grew.
“And then you learned about Lily’s trust,” I said.
Susan nodded.
“Daniel mentioned it.”
“You calculated how much you could access.”
“We discussed options.”
“Stealing from a baby is not an option.”
Her jaw tightened.
“We never took the trust money.”
“Because I stopped you.”
Susan looked down.
That was the closest she came to admitting the truth.
“Why Chloe?”
Susan exhaled.
“I hated that situation.”
“You helped pay her rent.”
“Because Daniel said she was carrying his son.”
There it was again.
The son.
“Would you have done the same if Noah had been a girl?”
Susan did not answer.
I did not need her to.
She continued.
“I believed Daniel needed a fresh start.”
“With Chloe.”
“With someone less…”
She stopped.
“Less what?”
Her attorney touched her arm.
Susan ignored him.
“Less difficult.”
I stared at her.
“I became difficult when I stopped paying your son’s debts.”
“You never understood him.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I understood him exactly when I finally saw what he did after hearing the word no.”
Susan’s eyes filled.
For a second she looked like a mother instead of an enemy.
“My son is going to prison.”
“Maybe.”
“He has two infants.”
“Yes.”
“You could tell investigators you don’t want charges.”
“I could.”
Hope appeared in her face.
“I won’t.”
It disappeared.
“Jennifer.”
“He forged my signature.”
“Under pressure.”
“He tried to take Lily.”
“He was afraid.”
“He fabricated evidence.”
“He panicked.”
“He planned to steal from her trust.”
Susan’s voice broke.
“He is still her father.”
I leaned forward.
“That is exactly why there have to be consequences.”
She sat back.
Nothing remained to negotiate.
As she stood to leave, she looked at me.
“I hope Lily never turns against you.”
The sentence was meant to wound me.
It failed.
“I hope Lily never has to protect me from the consequences of my own choices.”
Susan froze.
Then she left.
Two days later she signed a cooperation agreement with prosecutors.
She provided emails Daniel believed had been deleted.
Daniel responded by giving investigators records implicating Susan.
They destroyed each other with remarkable efficiency.
The divorce case moved forward separately.
Daniel stopped contesting primary custody.
His criminal attorney advised him to.
He agreed that Lily would live with me.
His contact would remain supervised until the family court determined otherwise.
He also agreed never to act as trustee, custodian, or financial representative for any account belonging to Lily.
Then came the issue of the house.
The fraudulent loan had complicated everything.
The bank eventually confirmed my signature had been forged.
The debt was removed from my liability pending recovery from Daniel and Susan.
I could have kept the house.
Instead, I decided to sell it.
My mother asked if I was sure.
I stood in Lily’s nursery one last time.
The walls were pale green.
Daniel had painted them himself.
I remembered him standing on a ladder, laughing because he had gotten paint in his hair.
That memory was real.
So was the betrayal.
One did not erase the other.
But I no longer wanted to raise Lily inside a museum of contradictions.
“Yes,” I told my mother.
“I’m sure.”
When I opened the nursery closet, I found one final object Daniel had forgotten.
A gift bag from the baptism.
Inside were congratulation cards.
Most contained small checks for Lily.
One envelope contained five hundred dollars.
It had never been deposited.
The card was from Chloe.
My hands went still.
She had attended the hotel that morning.
Not the party.
She had left the card with reception.
Inside she had written:
For Lily.
May you like
None of this is her fault.
For the first time since meeting Chloe, I cried for both of us.
