Chapter 2 - MY FATHER DOES NOT THREATEN HIMJulian did not sit.
Not immediately.
He looked at me.
“What the hell is this?”
Dad answered:
“Your wife called me.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I know.”
Julian’s eyes moved toward the folder.
“What’s in there?”
Dad said:
“We’ll get to that.”
Eleanor finally found her voice.
“Audrey, sweetheart, what happened to your face?”
I stared at her.
That question almost impressed me.
Not because she did not know.
Because of how carefully she asked it.
As if my bruises had spontaneously appeared between breakfast and lunch.
I said:
“Ask your son.”
Eleanor’s expression tightened.
“Julian?”
He exhaled.
“She fell.”
Dad did not react.
Good lawyers learn to let bad statements remain in the air.
I had not fallen.
Julian knew I had not fallen.
Eleanor looked at me again.
“Is that true?”
“No.”
Julian snapped:
“Audrey.”
Dad raised one hand.
“Do not use her name as a warning.”
Julian laughed.
“This is my house.”
“No,” I said.
He turned toward me.
Again.
There it was.
The phrase he hated.
“This house is mine.”
Eleanor stepped between us emotionally if not physically.
“Everyone is upset.”
Dad finally looked at her.
“Mrs. Hayes, my daughter has facial injuries. Before we discuss real estate, lunch, or anyone’s feelings about presentation, she is going to receive medical care.”
Julian said:
“She does not need a hospital.”
Dad turned back.
“Did you examine her?”
“No.”
“Then that opinion is not useful.”
Julian moved toward me.
Dad stepped slightly sideways.
Not aggressively.
Just enough.
Julian stopped.
I took out the second phone.
His eyes widened.
“What is that?”
I said:
“Mine.”
“You have another phone?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Dad answered before I could.
“Julian, stop asking questions.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need your own lawyer.”
The room changed.
Eleanor whispered:
“Martin.”
Dad looked at her.
“You should consider one too, depending on what you knew.”
Her face lost color.
Julian finally sat.
Not because Dad ordered him.
Because he realized he was speaking too much.
I stood another minute.
Then said:
“I’m leaving.”
Julian rose.
“Absolutely not.”
My father did not threaten him.
He did not say:
Touch her and I’ll kill you.
He did something better.
He took out his phone.
“I’m calling police so Audrey can leave without interference and document her condition.”
Julian froze.
That was the beginning.
Not the folder.
Not my father.
May you like
The word document.
Because Julian’s greatest confidence had always depended on everything happening in private.
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