Chapter 7 - THE CRUMBLING TOWER
Amy stood in the carpeted hallway of the law firm, her designer mascara running down her cheeks, her hands shaking violently.
"Mom... please tell me you didn't know about the federal investigation," Amy whimpered, taking a hesitant step forward. "I didn't know, Mom! I swear on my life I didn't know Peter was doing anything illegal! I thought he was just a successful businessman!"
I looked at my daughter—the child I had poured my entire life, soul, and savings into protecting.
"You knew he was cruel, Amy," I said softly, the sadness in my voice heavy and dark. "You might not have known about the wire fraud, but you knew how he treated people. You watched him degrade waitstaff at restaurants, you watched him talk down to service workers, and on Christmas night... you watched him treat your own mother like trash."
"I was scared he would leave me!" Amy cried out, covering her face. "Peter was always so controlling! If I disagreed with him, he would freeze my credit cards or give me the silent treatment for weeks! I just... I wanted to keep the peace!"
"Keeping the peace at the expense of your integrity isn't peace, Amy," I told her, my heart aching for the weak, hollow person she had become. "It's cowardice."
"What am I going to do?" she sobbed, looking around the empty corporate hallway. "They're going to take the house! They're going to take my car! I have nothing left!"
"You're thirty-two years old, Amy," I said firmly. "You have a college degree that I paid for. You have two working hands. You are going to get a job, you are going to hire your own defense attorney to clear your name from Peter's joint accounts, and you are going to rebuild your life from scratch."
"Are... are you going to help me?" Amy asked, looking up with a tiny glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Can I come stay at your house?"
I looked at the elevator doors sliding open behind me.
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"My house is closed to anyone who demands I wear an apron at their dinner table," I said clearly. "When you are ready to apologize—not because you need a place to stay, but because you realize how deeply you hurt me—we can talk."
I stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the ground floor, and watched the steel doors slowly close between us, shutting out the sound of my daughter's weeping.
