Chapter 7: Eleanor
She was waiting outside our house when we arrived home the next morning.
Not at the door.
At the bottom of the front steps, standing very straight in a grey coat, her handbag held in both hands in front of her.
The posture of a woman who had decided that arriving looked better than being summoned.
Marcus stopped the car.
He sat for a moment without moving.
"You don't have to talk to her," I said.
"Yes I do." He opened the door.
"Stay here."
I got out anyway.
Eleanor watched me do it.
Something moved across her face — not surprise, not quite.
More like a reassessment.
"Khloe." She said my name the way she always had.
Precisely.
Like a word she had chosen carefully and still wasn't sure she liked.
"Eleanor."
She looked at Marcus.
"I want to explain."
"Then explain," he said.
She glanced at me again.
"Privately."
"No," Marcus said.
Her chin lifted slightly.
"Marcus—"
"Whatever you have to say, you say it in front of my wife.
That is not a negotiation."
Eleanor was quiet for a moment.
A car passed on the street behind her.
She watched it go, then looked back at her son.
"I was trying to protect you," she said.
"From what?"
"From a mistake." Her voice was steady.
Practiced.
"I watched your father make the same mistake.
Marrying someone who didn't understand our family, our responsibilities, what was expected.
I watched what it cost him.
I watched what it cost all of us." She paused.
"I wasn't going to let that happen to you."
"So you helped Isabella forge a property transfer."
"It wasn't forged.
It was—"
"My signature is not on it," Marcus said.
"My wife's signature is not on it.
A property transfer without the owners' signatures is fraud.
That is not a technicality.
That is a crime."
Eleanor's hands tightened on her handbag.
"Isabella told me you had agreed," she said.
"She told me you'd discussed it.
That you just needed time to tell Khloe.
That you needed someone to help move things forward before the baby complicated—"
"She lied to you," Marcus said.
Eleanor stopped.
"She used you," he said.
"She told you what you wanted to hear because she knew you'd help her.
And you did." He took one step closer to his mother.
"She went to my pregnant wife's hospital room and threatened her.
She put her foot on Khloe's body while she was on the floor.
There is a security camera recording of all of it." Another step.
"Did you know she was going to do that?"
"No." Eleanor's voice cracked for the first time.
"No, Marcus, I would never—"
"Did you call her after Khloe phoned you?"
A pause.
"Did you call her?"
"Yes." It came out small.
"I told her Khloe had found something.
I told her she needed to—" Eleanor stopped.
"I told her to go talk to Khloe.
I didn't know she would—"
"You sent her there." Marcus's voice didn't rise.
That was the thing that made it worse.
"You called her and you sent her to a hospital room where my wife was alone.
Seven months pregnant.
And you knew Isabella well enough to know exactly what kind of woman you were sending."
Eleanor looked at me.
I said nothing.
"I didn't think she would hurt anyone," Eleanor said.
"I thought she would talk to you.
Reason with you.
I thought—"
"You thought Khloe would be frightened enough to walk away," Marcus said.
"That's what you thought."
Eleanor's mouth opened.
Closed.
"Our attorney will be in contact," Marcus said.
"You should get your own."
He walked past her and up the steps.
He unlocked the front door and held it open for me.
I walked past Eleanor without speaking.
At the top of the steps I heard her voice behind us — quieter now, the practiced steadiness gone.
"Marcus.
Please."
He didn't turn around.
"I'm your mother."
May you like
"I know," he said.
And closed the door.
