“You’ve become difficult, Eleanor. Suspicious. Forgetful. You’re not capable of making these decisions alone anymore.”
I placed the serving spoon beside my plate.
“Is that what you told the bank?”
The silence was immediate.
Daniel frowned.
“What bank?”
Vanessa’s face went pale.
I reached for my handbag.
“The bank that received an application to borrow two hundred and forty thousand dollars against my house.”
Daniel turned toward his wife.
“Vanessa?”
She stood so quickly that her chair scraped across the floor.
“That is completely inappropriate dinner conversation.”
“Whose signature is on the application?” I asked.
“You’re confused.”
“I have a copy.”
“You’re deliberately trying to humiliate me!”
Before I could remove the envelope, Vanessa struck the dining table with the back of her hand.
The nearest glass toppled.
Then she swept everything in front of her across the oak surface.
The crash echoed through the kitchen.
A shard of crystal skidded beneath Daniel’s chair.
Vanessa held the stained napkin in one hand and looked at me as though I had committed some unforgivable crime.
“You’re not family anymore,” she said.
And when Daniel finally told me I should move out, I understood that the greatest betrayal wasn’t the fraudulent document.
It was the fact that my son had already decided whose version of the truth he wanted to believe.
I looked at the envelope resting beside my plate.
Then I stood.
“No, Daniel,” I said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Vanessa gave a sharp laugh.
