Chapter 6: The Morning Evelyn Fought Back
Ryan was at Daniel Rourke's office by eight the next morning.
Rourke had already drafted the emergency motion.
He walked Ryan through it page by page across a desk covered in organized stacks — the police report, the evidence log from the nursery, a printed copy of the fraudulent medical report, and the photographs Maya had taken of the original envelope six weeks ago.
"The fraudulent expert witness is our strongest immediate argument," Rourke said.
"The court will not look favorably on a petition built around a doctor who doesn't exist.
I expect the petition to be suspended within forty-eight hours pending investigation."
"And the hearing in eleven days?"
"Almost certainly postponed.
But we push for dismissal, not postponement." Rourke slid a form across the desk.
"Sign here.
This authorizes me to file this morning."
Ryan signed.
His phone rang before he could set the pen down.
The number was his mother's home line.
He looked at Rourke, who nodded once.
Ryan answered.
It wasn't Evelyn.
It was a man's voice.
Smooth.
Unhurried.
The voice of someone accustomed to being the most composed person in any room.
"Ryan.
It's Gerald."
Ryan set the pen down.
"Uncle Gerald."
"I think we should talk before this goes any further.
Your mother is very distressed.
She made some poor decisions last night and she knows that.
But I want you to understand that everything she did came from love."
"She str\*ked my wife.
She took my son's inhaler.
She produced a medical report from a doctor who doesn't exist."
A brief pause.
"The medical report was poorly handled.
I'll grant you that.
But Ryan, your mother's concerns about Oliver's care are genuine.
She has watched that child struggle for three years and she has felt shut out.
Surely you can understand—"
"Gerald." Ryan's voice didn't rise.
"Are you calling to ask me to drop the police report?"
"I'm calling to ask you to consider the family."
"I am considering the family.
My wife and my son are the family."
"Ryan—"
"Did you access my home computer two months ago?"
The pause this time was longer.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You were in my home office with my mother.
I want to know if you accessed my computer."
"We were looking for a charger—"
"Gerald." Ryan's voice went flat.
"My attorney is filing an emergency motion this morning that will trigger a full investigation into the guardianship petition, the fraudulent medical documentation, and any assistance my mother received from individuals with access to government records." He let that sit for a moment.
"If there's anything you'd like to get ahead of, now would be the time."
The line was silent for four full seconds.
"You're making a mistake," Gerald said.
His voice had lost the smoothness.
"Your mother has resources you don't.
She has people who will testify.
She has documentation going back three years.
You go to war with her and you will spend the next two years in court while your son watches his family destroy itself."
"Or," Ryan said, "she faces the consequences of what she did last night and it ends quickly."
"She's your mother, Ryan."
"I know who she is." Ryan picked up the pen.
"Don't call this number again."
He ended the call and looked at Rourke.
"Her brother helped her," Ryan said.
"I don't have proof yet.
But he just told me she has documentation going back three years.
He knew exactly what was in that folder."
Rourke made a note.
"That's useful.
It suggests he was involved in preparing the case, not just aware of it." He looked up.
"You mentioned a forensic referral for your computer."
"Yes."
Rourke slid a business card across the desk.
"Call this number when you leave here.
Tell them I sent you.
They can image the drive today and tell us within twenty-four hours whether it was accessed and what was taken."
Ryan pocketed the card.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Maya.
*Oliver ate breakfast.
He asked where you were.
I told him you were fixing something.*
Ryan looked at the message for a moment.
Then he typed back: *Almost done.
Tell him I'll be there by lunch.*
He put the phone away and looked at Rourke.
"What's the worst case?" Ryan asked.
"If the court doesn't suspend the petition.
If they move forward with the hearing."
Rourke folded his hands on the desk.
"Worst case — a judge reviews the petition without yet knowing the documentation is fraudulent, grants a temporary guardianship order pending investigation, and Oliver is placed with your mother while the case is reviewed."
Ryan's jaw tightened.
"How long would that last?"
"Weeks.
Possibly longer." Rourke held his gaze.
"That is why we file this morning.
And that is why the camera footage matters more than anything else in that evidence bag." He paused.
"Ryan — that footage doesn't just show what your mother did last night.
It shows a pattern of deliberate, premeditated action.
That is not a grandmother who lost her temper.
That is someone who planned this for a long time."
May you like
Ryan nodded.
"Then let's make sure the court sees every second of it."
