Chapter 5 - A Web of Poison
While David drafted the emergency injunction in the corner of my apartment, Jared began digging through his own phone. He sat cross-legged on the threadbare carpet, scrolling frantically through text messages, call logs, and emails spanning the last three years.
“Dad,” Jared called out, his voice cracking with a horrifying realization. “Did you call me on Christmas two years ago?”
I stopped pouring the kettle. “I called you seven times, Jared. The phone went straight to voicemail. The next day, I got a text from your number saying you and Lauren were in Cabo and didn't have cell service.”
Jared shoved his phone toward me. “I was in Chicago that Christmas. We had dinner with Lauren’s family. I asked her why you hadn't called, and she told me...” He choked on his words, his face flushing with fury. “She told me you were furious with me for not giving you more money, and that you refused to talk to me.”
“She blocked my number on your phone,” I said, the puzzle pieces clicking together with devastating clarity.
“She had access to my business mobile manager,” Jared said, tears of rage spilling down his cheeks. “She set up an auto-divert rule. Every time your number called me, it routed directly to an unmonitored spam mailbox. And every text you sent was automatically marked read and archived.”
He threw his phone onto the couch. “She spent three years systematically cutting me off from you. She told my sister in Denver that you were losing your mind, that you had early-onset dementia and didn't recognize people anymore. That’s why Sarah stopped visiting! Lauren told her you threw a plate at her the last time she came over!”
The sheer cruelty of it made my knees weak. I had spent countless lonely evenings sitting in that very chair, looking out at the gray Chicago alleyway, wondering what I had done wrong. I thought my children had moved on with their successful lives and found their old, retired father an embarrassing chore.
I thought they had forgotten me because I was no longer useful.
“She didn't just steal money, Jared,” I whispered, leaning against the doorframe. “She stole my family. She made me spend three years believing my own children didn't love me.”
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Jared walked over, wrapped his arms around my frail shoulders, and held me tighter than he had since he was a little boy. “I’m so sorry, Dad,” he sobbed into my shoulder. “I swear on Mom’s grave, she is going to pay for every single second of this.”
***
