Chapter 2 - The Money Amy Never Saw
I stared at Amy across the hospital room.
“You’re telling me Mom never gave you anything?”
Amy slowly shook her head.
“Not once.”
I felt as though someone had punched me in the chest.
For eight months, I had transferred three thousand dollars into my mother’s account every month.
Twenty-four thousand dollars.
She had told me Amy needed help with formula, diapers, groceries, and utilities.
Whenever I asked Amy whether things were okay, she always said yes.
Now I understood why.
“You thought I knew?”
Amy looked ashamed.
“I thought maybe you wanted her controlling everything.”
That sentence hurt worse than the money.
“Why would you think that?”
Amy looked toward Frederick.
“Because every time I questioned her, she said you agreed with her.”
My jaw tightened.
“What exactly did she say?”
Amy hesitated.
Then the truth started coming out.
Teresa had told her I believed Amy spent too much money.
She claimed I had asked her to monitor household purchases.
She criticized what Amy bought for Frederick.
She demanded receipts.
She told Amy that because I earned most of the income, Amy needed to prove she was useful.
Worst of all, Teresa had repeatedly told her one terrifying lie.
“If Connor ever has to choose between you and me, he’ll choose his mother.”
I felt sick.
Amy wiped her eyes.
“I didn’t want to create problems between you.”
“Amy, she already created them.”
I moved closer.
“You should never have been treated like that.”
She looked at me carefully.
Then she asked the question I deserved.
“How did you not see it?”
I had no good answer.
I worked long hours.
I trusted my mother.
And every time Amy seemed quiet after Teresa visited, I assumed she was exhausted from motherhood.
I had mistaken silence for peace.
Just like I had mistaken control for help.
My phone rang.
It was Detective Ramirez, one of the officers from the house.
“Mr. Bradley, we found additional documents.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“There was a second folder inside your cousin’s vehicle.”
“What was in it?”
He paused.
“Copies of your bank statements.”
“Insurance records.”
“And a draft power-of-attorney document.”
I stood.
“Power of attorney for what?”
“For you.”
My blood went cold.
Ramirez continued.
“It appears someone was preparing paperwork that would give Teresa Bradley authority over your financial affairs.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I’m healthy.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why we need to determine how they intended to justify it.”
Amy was staring at me now.
I put the call on speaker.
Ramirez lowered his voice.
“There’s one more thing.”
“We found a handwritten note attached to the document.”
I gripped the phone.
“What did it say?”
He read the sentence slowly.
“After Connor signs the medical paperwork, everything becomes easier.”
Amy and I looked at each other.
Neither of us knew what medical paperwork meant.
But I suddenly remembered something.
Two weeks earlier, my mother had asked me to attend a family dinner the following Sunday.
She had insisted I drink a special herbal tonic because I looked exhausted.
May you like
At the time, I had laughed.
Now nothing about that invitation felt innocent.
