Chapter 6: Lorraine Makes Her Move
The call came four days later.
I was at my father's house — the house Lorraine had never seen, the one with the wide back porch and the view of the water that Dad had never mentioned to anyone who didn't need to know.
I was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a set of client drawings I was supposed to be reviewing when my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered anyway.
"Mara." Lorraine's voice was precisely what it had always been.
Composed.
Faintly warm.
Like a room that looked comfortable until you noticed there was no heat source.
"I think we should talk."
"All right," I said.
"In person.
Just the two of us."
"I'll have Rebecca present."
A pause.
"That isn't necessary.
This is a family conversation."
"We're not family anymore, Lorraine."
Another pause.
Longer.
"I'd like to explain some things," she said.
"About the decisions that were made.
I think if you understood the full picture—"
"I have the full picture," I said.
"I've had it since the night of the wedding."
"You have a recording of a private conversation that was taken out of context."
"You discussed forging my signature.
What context would help that?"
Her voice shifted.
Still controlled, but the warmth was completely gone now.
"You're making a serious mistake," she said.
"Owen is willing to be reasonable.
The property matter can be resolved quietly.
No one needs to know about any of this."
"Rebecca has already filed."
Silence.
"She filed Friday," I said.
"The annulment petition and the civil complaint.
Both are public record as of this morning."
The silence stretched long enough that I thought she might have ended the call.
Then: "Your father put you up to this."
"My father told me not to confront Owen.
I made the rest of the decisions myself."
"Daniel Bennett has been looking for a reason to humiliate this family for years."
"My father has never mentioned your family once in my presence.
You weren't important enough to mention."
I heard her breath change.
"You have no idea," she said, "what I can do."
"I have some idea," I said.
"You've done it twice before.
The women didn't fight back.
I'm going to."
"Those situations were entirely different—"
"Were they?
Because Richard Hale's name appears in all three.
And now it appears in a civil filing.
And the Bar Association complaint Rebecca submitted this morning."
The line went quiet again.
When Lorraine spoke, her voice was stripped of everything except what it had always been underneath: cold, precise, and used to winning.
"I will make this very difficult for you."
"I know," I said.
"I'm ready for difficult."
I ended the call.
Dad appeared in the kitchen doorway.
He had been there for most of it — I had heard him stop moving in the hallway when the call started.
"Bar Association complaint?" he said.
"Rebecca filed it this morning."
He looked at me for a moment.
"You've been busy."
"I had a good teacher," I said.
He sat down across from me and picked up his coffee.
"She'll go after your business," he said.
"Your clients.
She has connections."
"I know."
"Are you prepared for that?"
I looked at my client drawings.
Three residential projects.
One commercial space.
Work I had built from nothing over four years.
"If she comes after my work," I said, "then everything she does becomes part of the pattern.
More evidence.
More filing."
Dad nodded slowly.
"Rebecca said the same thing."
"Rebecca is very good at her job."
He almost smiled.
My phone buzzed on the table.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*This is Marcus.
Owen's best man.
I need to talk to you.
I know about the other two women.
I was there for one of them.
I should have said something then.
I'm sorry I didn't.*
May you like
I stared at the message.
Then I forwarded it to Rebecca.
