Chapter 7: Forty-Seven Comments
Carol called at nine Monday morning, as promised.
"I've watched the video four times," she said.
"The footage is clean.
You can see Linda's face, her hands, the moment of contact.
The audio captures her exact words.
There is no ambiguity."
"What are our options?"
"Several.
The most immediate is a formal cease-and-desist directed at Linda regarding the defamatory posts being circulated in your community.
We can't prove she authored the anonymous post directly, but we can put her on notice that any further false statements about you — the property scheme narrative, the entrapment claim — will be pursued legally."
"Will that stop her?"
A pause.
"It will make her understand there are consequences.
Whether it stops her depends on whether she's rational enough to weigh them."
I already knew the answer to that.
"Draft it," I said.
"Send it to her by end of week."
"Done.
There's something else."
"Tell me."
"The video.
You could release it.
Post it yourself, or give it to someone who will.
It would end the false narrative immediately — anyone who's seen the anonymous post would have the full picture within hours."
I thought about that.
"What does releasing it do to Daniel?"
Carol was quiet for a moment.
"It shows his mother in the worst possible light.
It shows him standing there.
It doesn't show the conversation you had with him afterward."
"So it's accurate but incomplete."
"Yes."
"Hold it for now," I said.
"Send the cease-and-desist first.
Let's see what she does."
---
Linda received the letter Thursday.
Daniel called me Thursday evening.
"She's furious," he said.
"I assumed she would be."
"She's saying you're trying to destroy the family.
That you're using lawyers to intimidate her." A pause.
"She wants to meet.
She says she wants to talk to you directly, without attorneys."
"No."
"Emma—"
"No, Daniel.
The last time I was in a room with your mother without a witness, she smashed a cake into my face.
I'm not meeting her without Carol present."
Silence.
"She won't agree to that."
"Then we don't meet."
Another silence.
"She said—" He stopped.
"What did she say?"
"She said if you won't meet with her, she's going to contact your employer.
She has a friend who knows someone on your board.
She's going to tell them you're involved in a property fraud scheme."
I sat very still.
My employer was a nonprofit.
I managed their community grant program.
I had worked there for six years.
My reputation there was the one thing in my professional life that was entirely, cleanly mine.
"She said that."
"Yes." His voice was tight.
"Emma, I told her not to.
I told her she was making it worse.
She told me I was choosing you over my own mother."
"You are," I said.
"And you should."
He didn't answer immediately.
"Daniel." My voice was steady.
"If she contacts my employer with false information, that is defamation.
That is not a family dispute anymore.
That is a legal matter."
"I know."
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"Yes." A long pause.
"I'm going to call her back tonight.
I'm going to tell her that if she does this, I will not support her.
In any way.
Financially, legally, or otherwise."
"Will she listen?"
"I don't know." His voice was raw.
"But I'm going to say it."
I hung up and sat in my mother's guest room with my hands folded over my stomach.
My daughter moved.
"I know," I said softly.
"Me too."
---
Friday morning, Linda Carter drove to my employer's office.
She did not call ahead.
She walked in, asked to speak to the executive director, and when the receptionist said he was unavailable, she left a handwritten letter.
The executive director, a man named Robert Yuen who had known me for six years and hired me himself, called me at noon.
May you like
"Emma," he said carefully.
"I need you to come in."
