“And once you got there, you’d realize how isolated you were.
He thought you’d come back to us for help.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“The HOA fees?”
“He wanted you to start contributing money again.
He thought that would keep you involved financially and make it easier to negotiate the property.”
I felt as though something inside me had finally cracked.
The humiliating laughter.
The home gym.
The demand to pack.
It had not merely been Vanessa’s cruelty.
My son had helped design the humiliation because he believed an isolated, frightened mother would be easier to control.
Vanessa was still crying.
“I swear I didn’t know how far he’d gone.”
I couldn’t offer her the comfort she wanted.
Not yet.
“Vanessa, you knew enough to help.”
“I know.”
“You laughed at me.”
Her sobbing grew louder.
“I know.”
“You watched me leave my home carrying two suitcases.”
