Chapter 2 - THE GUARDIANSHIP PETITION
Daniel tried to make me leave.
That was his first mistake.
“Claire, this is private.”
“No.”
He stared.
“What?”
“Abuse becomes private only when nobody else can see it.”
Richard’s face hardened.
“You have no idea what you walked into.”
“Then explain the guardianship petition.”
Victoria appeared behind him.
Perfect posture.
Perfect pearls.
No smile now.
“Emily has psychiatric problems.”
Emily stood at the basement table behind them.
Her face was pale.
But for the first time that evening, she looked less frightened.
Because I was there.
I walked inside.
Daniel blocked me.
I looked at him.
“Move.”
He didn’t.
Then Emily said:
“Let her in.”
Daniel turned.
“Emily—”
“It’s my life.”
That sentence shifted the room.
I entered.
The basement was not a dungeon.
That would have been easier.
It was an office.
Desk.
Printer.
Locked filing cabinets.
Medication organizer.
A digital scale.
Stacks of financial records.
Everything neat enough to make control look responsible.
I picked up the guardianship draft.
The petition claimed Emily suffered from:
Severe nutritional instability.
Paranoid thinking.
Financial recklessness.
Inability to maintain independent housing.
Poor medication compliance.
The proposed guardian?
Victoria Mercer.
The proposed financial conservator?
Daniel Mercer.
My fiancé.
I looked at him.
“You were going to control her money.”
“She needs help.”
“Why you?”
“I understand the family assets.”
Exactly.
Emily spoke from behind me.
“They moved me back here nine months ago.”
Daniel sighed.
“She lost her job.”
“They made me quit.”
Victoria snapped:
“That is a lie.”
Emily looked at me.
“I worked for a nonprofit in Cambridge. Mom called my boss and told them I was having a breakdown.”
My stomach tightened.
“Were you?”
“No.”
Richard answered:
“She stopped eating.”
Emily’s expression changed.
“I stopped eating what they gave me.”
I looked at the oatmeal bowl still sitting on the desk.
Watered down.
Measured.
Controlled.
“Why?”
Emily lifted her sleeve.
A medical wristband.
Then another.
She had been seeing doctors.
But all appointments were arranged by her parents.
All transportation handled by family.
All records sent to Daniel.
I asked:
“Who pays for your care?”
She laughed once.
“My trust.”
“How large?”
Victoria snapped:
“That is none of your concern.”
Emily answered anyway.
“About 4.8 million.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Too late.
Grandma had left Emily nearly five million dollars.
And the family trying to convince everyone she was incapable also happened to be billing her trust for everything.
Housing.
Medical management.
Transportation.
Legal fees.
Even “family supervision.”
I picked up one monthly statement.
MERCER FAMILY MANAGEMENT SERVICES — $18,500.
“What is this?”
Nobody answered.
Then I saw the owner.
May you like
Daniel Mercer.
My future husband had been charging his sister’s trust almost nineteen thousand dollars a month for managing the very dependency he claimed she needed.
