Chapter 6 - THE COST OF FINALLY COMPARING NOTESAmber did not leave Brandon that day.
Claire thought she should.
I thought she should.
Amber said neither of us understood what leaving meant when every dollar she had was tied to him.
She worked in event planning, but her income had become irregular after the pandemic reshaped the small company she worked for. Brandon had convinced her to put most of her savings into the renovation account.
Her SUV was financed in both names.
Their credit cards were joint.
Her father's loan had her signature too.
“He told me we'd refinance against the house before it came due,” she said.
“You can't refinance something you don't own.”
“I know that now.”
She looked embarrassed saying it.
I understood that feeling better than I wanted to.
For three years, I had mistaken being needed for being loved.
Claire was less sympathetic.
“He hit Dad thirty times while you watched.”
Amber looked at the floor.
“I know.”
“You smiled.”
“I know.”
“That isn't something you get to erase because Brandon lied to you too.”
Amber's face tightened.
“I didn't ask you to erase it.”
“Good.”
I stopped Claire before it became another useless fight.
“We need facts.”
Claire stared at me.
“That sentence is why Brandon does what he does.”
“What does that mean?”
“You turn everything into a situation report.”
I didn't answer.
She continued.
“Mom was dying and you made lists. Brandon was falling apart and you paid bills. I stopped coming home and you sent birthday checks.”
Each sentence landed cleanly.
“You solve problems so you don't have to have relationships.”
Amber looked away.
I wanted to tell Claire she was being unfair.
Instead I realized she had just given me the most accurate description of myself I'd heard in years.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“Stop protecting him because you're ashamed of how you parented him.”
That was harder.
Because that was what I had been doing.
I had not yet filed a police report.
I had told myself I needed time.
I had told myself Brandon's Guard career could be damaged.
I had told myself one terrible night shouldn't destroy thirty years of his life.
Claire called it what it was.
Protection.
I drove to the Austin Police Department substation that afternoon and reported the assault.
I brought the urgent care documentation.
Photos.
Brandon's threatening texts.
I gave a statement.
I did not ask anyone to “go easy.”
I did not ask anyone to destroy my son either.
I simply stopped lying for him.
When I returned to Mallory's office, she had another development.
Brandon had retained an attorney.
His lawyer sent a letter claiming Brandon had an equitable interest in my house based on money invested and promises I had made.
The letter warned me not to transfer the property.
“He's threatening to interfere with the sale,” Mallory said.
“He doesn't know about the buyers.”
“He knows you're considering something.”
I thought of Amber's accidental comment.
Don't sell the house.
Brandon had known because he had seen the broker's envelope on my desk.
Maybe opened it.
Maybe photographed it.
“Can he stop me?”
“He can create a dispute. Whether he can win is different.”
I nodded.
Mallory slid another page toward me.
“He also claims he contributed over two hundred thousand dollars.”
“That isn't true.”
“We'll need to prove it.”
I looked at Amber's bank records.
My transfers.
The fake invoices.
Then Claire said something none of us had considered.
“What if the fake renovation money isn't the worst part?”
I turned.
She had been reviewing my household account.
For nearly eighteen months, small transfers had gone out twice a month.
Always under $2,500.
Always labeled as household reimbursements.
I hadn't noticed them.
Together they totaled $41,600.
The receiving account was one I didn't recognize.
Mallory looked at me.
“Who had access?”
I already knew.
Brandon.
May you like
And suddenly this wasn't just about money he'd lied to get.
It was about money he had quietly taken.
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