Later that afternoon Michael came by himself. He flew into my arms crying.
“Grandma, I miss you.”
I knelt and held his little face.
“Sometimes when people treat you badly for too long, you have to leave so they remember your value.”
“But we don’t treat you badly.”
“I know, sweetheart. You and Sarah love me. Your parents forgot how to treat me the right way.”
We ate cookies. We played dominoes. I read him a story. When Daniel came to pick him up, I asked only one question.
“Did you listen to it?”
He nodded.
“All of it?”
He nodded again.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Monday morning, at 9:30, Megan and I arrived at Hector Bravo’s office downtown. She looked like she had been dressed by justice itself—black suit, hair in a tight bun, briefcase full of fire.
Hector welcomed us with old-fashioned kindness and deep disappointment.
At 9:52, Daniel walked in wearing a gray suit that looked like funeral clothes. Emily followed behind him, and I almost did not recognize her. No red dress. No armor. Navy dress, low heels, pulled-back hair, very little makeup. She looked small.
We sat across from one another.
Hector adjusted his glasses.
“We’re here to resolve ownership and occupancy regarding 847 Jurist Circle.”
“We know,” Emily said quickly.
Megan opened her folder.
“Do you know my client invested $136,800 in that property?”
Emily swallowed.
“Yes.”
“And do you know she can seek immediate possession, rent claims, and other remedies?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at me and spoke in a voice so hoarse it almost sounded torn.
“I listened to the recordings. All seventeen. It took me four hours. Every one of them destroyed me.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Daniel—”
“No,” he said, sharper than I had ever heard him. “Not this time.”
Then he looked at me again.
“I heard what she said about you. I heard the nursing home comment. I heard her laughing with her friends. I heard her say you’d served your purpose.”
Emily began to cry.
“It was frustration. I didn’t mean—”
Daniel’s voice rose.
“There is a recording where you say, ‘As soon as the old woman gets sick, we’ll send her somewhere cheap and keep the house.’ Did you not mean that either?”
Megan calmly lifted her laptop.
“If necessary, we can play the recordings here.”
“No,” Emily said immediately. “Please.”
Megan kept going.
“My client also has witness statements, financial records, written messages, and evidence of prolonged exploitation.”
Emily looked like she might faint.