“You changed the locks.”
“Because you went through our things.”
“Because you were hiding my mail.”
“I was trying to keep bills from frightening you.”
“You opened my bank statements.”
“I paid them.”
“With my money.”
Olivia stepped closer, her anger finally stripped of its polished surface.
“You think being kind makes you innocent? You hold everything over us. The house. The money. The fact that you raised Michael. You make everyone feel like a debt.”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened around the back of the blue chair.
“I never asked you to repay me.”
“You didn’t have to. You made us feel it.”
That struck differently.
Michael looked at his mother.
“Did I?”
Eleanor opened her mouth, then closed it.
There were truths that could coexist with betrayal.
She had given love in the language of sacrifice. She had assumed sacrifice would be understood as love. When it was not, she had become quietly resentful. She had never said, You may stay as long as you need. She had said, You may stay for now, and let the unfinished sentence fill the rooms.
“I should have spoken,” she said.
Olivia’s face twisted.
“But you still stole from me.”
“Yes.”
The simple answer silenced her.
Miriam placed another document on the table.
“This is a repayment agreement. If you sign it, the funds will be returned from the accounts and assets you control. The condominium deposit will be forfeited. You will vacate the house by tomorrow evening. You will have counsel present for every further interview.”
Olivia looked at the paper.
“And if I don’t?”
“The evidence remains.”
She sat down in the blue chair.
Eleanor watched her do it.
