Chapter 3 - The Payments That Were Never on Tanya’s Payroll
Adrian arrived forty minutes later.
He wore the navy suit he used for lender meetings, though his tie had been pulled loose in the car.
He walked into the living room and immediately looked for Eli.
Margaret stood in front of the staircase.
“He’s with Dr. Nolan.”
Adrian stopped.
“You took him to a doctor without calling me?”
“He was assaulted.”
“Tanya assaulted him?”
Margaret watched his face.
The shock looked performed.
Not badly.
But late.
“He says you paid her.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
Then he laughed once.
“This is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“What?”
“He creates connections between things that aren’t connected.”
“He said you paid her extra.”
“I pay Tanya extra all the time.”
Margaret went still.
“For what?”
“Errands. Overnight coverage. Helping with him.”
“With him?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I apparently don’t.”
He walked toward the bar cart and poured water without asking.
Margaret had watched her son do that his entire adult life.
Whenever he felt cornered, he moved.
Opened something.
Checked something.
Created the impression that the conversation was happening around him rather than to him.
“He has episodes,” Adrian said. “Rebecca’s death damaged him.”
Margaret hated the sentence immediately.
Not grief changed him.
Not Eli is struggling.
Damaged him.
“How much have you paid Tanya?”
“I don’t keep a running number.”
Margaret did.
She had owned Mercer House outright since her husband’s death.
Tanya’s base salary came through the household payroll company.
Any extra compensation Margaret approved appeared in monthly reports.
Adrian had never asked her to increase Tanya’s pay.
That meant any additional money had come directly from him.
Margaret called the family accountant while Adrian was still standing there.
He protested.
She ignored him.
The accountant found six transfers from Adrian’s personal account to Tanya over the previous seven months.
$600.
$750.
$750.
$1,000.
$1,200.
$1,500.
The payment descriptions were vague.
Family assistance.
Weekend coverage.
Care support.
But the amounts increased steadily.
Margaret wrote down the dates.
The first payment came nine days after Eli moved into her home.
The final one came four days earlier.
Adrian looked furious.
“You had no right to ask for my personal records.”
“I asked whether payments existed. You supplied the records to the family office for tax preparation.”
“That’s different.”
“Was she caring for Eli on those dates?”
“I don’t remember.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You remember everything involving money.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
She continued.
“You once called me from Boston because our office had paid a landscaper twice.”
“This isn’t a landscaping invoice.”
“No.”
Margaret lowered her voice.
“This is money paid to a woman my grandson says you hired to torment him.”
Adrian walked toward the door.
“I’m taking Eli home.”
Margaret stepped in front of him.
“No.”
“You don’t have authority to keep my son.”
That was true.
Margaret hated that it was true.
Adrian was Eli’s surviving parent.
Margaret could not simply replace him because she was angry.
But she could protect the boy through the procedures available to her.
“My attorney is already contacting child protective services.”
Adrian froze.
“You called CPS on your own son?”
“I called because Eli said an adult was paid to hurt him.”
Adrian’s face changed again.
Not shame.
Calculation.
He looked past Margaret toward the stairs.
“What else did he say?”
There it was.
The question underneath everything.
Not Is my son okay?
Not Did Tanya hurt him before?
What else did he say?
Margaret stared at him.
“What are you afraid he knows?”
May you like
Adrian looked at his mother.
For the first time that evening, he had no prepared answer.
