Chapter 5 - The Recording

"If you loved Christopher, you'd sign before he finds out how difficult you've become."

Mom's voice was calm on the recording. Almost gentle.

That somehow made it worse.

Savannah's voice followed. "He didn't sign this."

"Of course he did."

"Then let him tell me that."

A pause.

Then Mom said, "You really think he'll choose you over me?"

I closed my eyes.

The recording continued.

Savannah asked her to leave. Mom refused. There was a scrape, then Savannah saying, "Don't touch me."

Mom's answer came low and clear.

"You came into this family with nothing. Don't make me remind you how easy it would be for you to leave with nothing."

The audio ended.

I couldn't speak for several seconds.

Savannah watched me, afraid of something.

Not of Mom.

Of me.

"You thought I wouldn't believe you," I said.

She didn't answer.

"Savannah."

"I thought you'd explain it away."

The truth landed exactly where it should have.

Because that was what I'd been doing for years.

Mom criticized Savannah's clothes? She was traditional.

Mom rearranged our kitchen? She was trying to help.

Mom showed up without calling? She was lonely.

Mom questioned every choice we made for the baby? She was excited to be a grandmother.

I had translated disrespect into love because it was easier than confronting the woman who raised me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Savannah's eyes filled, but she didn't rescue me from the guilt.

Good.

I didn't deserve rescue.

We spent the next hour building a timeline from her notes. Fourteen visits. Six arguments. Two incidents where Mom blocked a doorway. One where she took Savannah's phone and kept it for twenty minutes. Three separate demands for a signature.

Then Savannah showed me a screenshot I hadn't seen.

A text Mom had sent from an unknown number:

CHRIS KNOWS YOU'RE NOT STABLE. HE'S JUST TOO AFRAID TO TELL YOU BEFORE THE BABY COMES.

"I called you that night," Savannah said. "You didn't answer."

I remembered. I had been at a company dinner with my phone on silent.

"When I got home, you were asleep," I said.

"I wasn't asleep."

I looked at her.

"I was pretending. I didn't want you to see me crying."

Before I could respond, the hospital room door opened.

A woman in a navy suit stepped in holding a folder.

"Savannah Reed?"

"Yes?"

"You've been served."

She handed my wife the papers.

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