Chapter 9: What Thomas Said
The court application moved faster than Patricia had hoped.
A hearing was scheduled for eight days out.
In the meantime, Vivienne's legal team filed for an interim order — requesting that Rosa be restricted from unsupervised contact with Thomas while the custody matter was assessed.
Patricia fought it.
She filed a counter-application, attaching Rosa's notebook, a summary of the recorded conversation, and a letter from Thomas's pediatrician — a woman named Dr.
Anand who had been seeing Thomas since he was two and who, when contacted, had said quietly that she had noted things over the years that she had not known how to act on, and that she was glad someone finally had.
The interim order was denied.
Rosa stayed.
But the hearing was coming, and Margaret Voss was thorough.
On the fifth day before the hearing, Patricia came to the house with a question she had been building toward carefully.
She sat across from Edward in the study.
"Thomas is six," she said.
"Old enough that a family court judge may want to speak with him — informally, in chambers, with a child liaison officer present.
It's not guaranteed, but it's possible.
I want to know if you think he could handle it."
Edward thought about it.
"He's quiet.
He's careful.
He watches people before he trusts them."
"That's not a bad quality in front of a judge."
"He's six."
"I know.
I'm not suggesting we put him through anything.
I'm saying the court may ask.
And if they do, we should be prepared for what he might say."
Edward was quiet for a moment.
"What are you worried he'll say?"
"I'm not worried.
I want to know what's true.
Children that age are often more direct than adults expect." Patricia folded her hands.
"Has he said anything to you — in his own words — about his mother?
About Rosa?
About what happens at home when you're not here?"
Edward looked at the window.
"Last week," he said slowly, "I was helping him get ready for bed.
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he said — out of nowhere — 'Daddy, does Rosa have to do everything Mummy says?' "
Patricia waited.
"I asked him why he was asking.
He thought about it.
Then he said, 'Because Mummy told Rosa that if she ever told you anything, she'd make sure Rosa went to prison.' "
The room was very still.
"He said prison," Patricia said.
"He said prison.
He said it very matter-of-factly, the way children say things they've been carrying for a long time and have finally found a moment to put down."
Patricia wrote it down.
"Did he say when he heard this?"
"He said he heard it through the wall.
He said it happened more than once."
"Edward." Patricia looked up.
"This is significant.
A direct threat made to Rosa, witnessed by the child, repeated.
This goes to the pattern of control and coercion." She paused.
"I need Rosa to confirm it.
And I need to know if there are any other instances — anything Rosa was told, anything Thomas witnessed — that we haven't captured yet."
They called Rosa in.
She sat down.
Patricia asked her directly.
Rosa's face went through something complicated.
Then she straightened.
"She said it the first time about four years ago," Rosa said.
"Thomas was in the next room.
I didn't know he could hear.
She said if I ever spoke to Edward about the arrangement — about who I was — she would report me to the authorities for fraud.
She said I'd taken money under false pretenses and she had documentation that could put me away."
"Was that true?"
"No.
But I didn't know that then.
I was twenty-three.
I believed her."
"And she repeated it?"
"Whenever she felt I was getting too — present.
Too visible with Thomas.
She'd find a moment alone and remind me." Rosa's voice was steady.
Flat with the flatness of things that have been survived.
"The last time was about five months ago.
Thomas had been sick and I'd sat with him through the night.
In the morning she came into the kitchen while I was making his breakfast and she said, very quietly, 'Remember what happens to women who forget their place, Rosa.' "
Patricia set down her pen.
"I want all of this in your statement.
Every instance.
Every word you can remember.
Dates if you have them."
"I have some in the notebook.
The rest I remember."
"Good." Patricia looked between them.
"I also want to address something directly.
Vivienne's team will argue that Rosa's presence in this house has been manipulative from the start — that she positioned herself close to Thomas deliberately, that she cultivated his attachment to undermine the legal mother.
They will make Rosa the villain of their version of this story."
Rosa said nothing.
"The answer to that argument," Patricia continued, "is Thomas himself.
Not what we say about him.
What he says, what he does, what any neutral professional who spends time with him observes." She looked at Rosa.
"Is there anyone — a teacher, a neighbor, a family friend — who has seen Thomas with you and with Vivienne separately?
Someone who could speak to the difference?"
Rosa thought for a moment.
"His teacher.
Mrs.
Calloway.
She's mentioned to me twice that Thomas seems — she used the word 'brighter' — on days when I pick him up versus days when his mother does."
"I'll contact her," Patricia said, and made a note.
She stood to leave.
At the door she paused.
"One more thing.
Vivienne's team will try to meet with Thomas before the hearing.
They have the right to request it through proper channels.
If anyone — anyone at all — attempts to speak with Thomas privately without going through me first, I need to know immediately."
She left.
Edward and Rosa sat in the study.
"She's building something," Rosa said quietly.
"Yes."
"Do you think it's enough?"
Edward looked at the notebook on the desk.
At the letter from Margaret Voss's office beside it.
At his phone, where the recording sat in a folder he had backed up in three separate places.
"I think," he said carefully, "that Vivienne spent six years believing she was the only one keeping records."
May you like
Rosa looked at him.
"She wasn't," he said.
