“I didn’t say he wasn’t your problem. I said he isn’t the whole problem.”
She had found eleven guardianship cases filed by Curtis Hale over six years.
Nine involved elderly homeowners.
Seven ended with the homes being sold within twelve months.
Five sales were arranged through the same property company.
Bridgemont Residential Holdings.
And Bridgemont had an investor.
Silver Pines Senior Support.
That was when I stopped looking at Daniel as the architect.
He was too careless.
Too impatient.
He had always been terrible at hiding anything.
At fourteen, he stole twenty dollars from my purse and bought a baseball glove.
Then left the receipt on the kitchen counter.
No.
Someone else had designed this.
Judge Mercer ordered a twenty-minute recess.
This time, no one laughed.
Daniel followed Vanessa toward the hallway.
She turned on him.
“You ruined everything.”
His face twisted.
“Me?”
“You opened your mouth about the recorder!”
“You told me Mom planted it!”
“Because you believe anything!”
The courtroom deputy stepped between them.
I looked away.
It hurt more than I expected.
He was still my son.
I remembered him at six years old, sleeping with his baseball glove under his pillow.
At twelve, crying after his dog died.
