Jake looked at his wife. “What are those?”
“Nothing.”
Marian turned on a small recorder. A voice filled the room.
Susan’s voice.
It was recorded in the kitchen two weeks earlier.
“Once he signs, she’ll have no choice. The house will be ours, and we can sell before anyone notices.”
Jake’s knees seemed to weaken.
The recording continued.
“His mother trusts him. She’ll never believe he did it without a reason.”
A second voice answered. It belonged to a man Betty did not recognize.
“How much can we get?”
“Enough to clear my parents’ debt and start over. I’m tired of living in that ugly place.”
The recording stopped.
No one moved.
Rain tapped against the windows. Somewhere upstairs, a pipe groaned.
Jake looked at Susan as if the woman before him had been replaced while he was watching.
“Who was that?” he asked.
Susan said nothing.
“Who was the man?”
“He was a realtor.”
“You were planning to sell my mother’s house.”
“Our house,” Susan snapped.
“You knew it wasn’t yours.”
“I knew you would make it ours.”
“You lied to my parents.”
“They needed somewhere to live.”
“You lied to me.”
“You were never going to do anything for us unless I forced you.”
Jake’s face twisted. “I gave you everything.”
“No, you gave your mother everything. You always have. The minute she calls, you run. The minute she needs money, you send it. The minute she looks sad, you forget I exist.”
Betty felt the old instinct rise in her, the urge to defend him, but she held it back. This was his moment. He had spent years letting other people speak over the truth. He needed to stand inside it now.
Susan pointed at him with a trembling hand. “You promised me this house.”
“I promised to find a way to help you.”
“You promised me a future.”
“I promised to love you.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“No,” Jake said. “It was supposed to be.”
His voice broke on the last word.
Susan’s eyes filled, but the tears did not soften her. “You would choose her again.”
Jake looked at Betty.
