Emily closed her eyes.
“I didn’t know,” Daniel continued, looking directly at me. “I had no idea about the things Emily was saying about you behind your back.”
“Daniel?”
Emily mumbled.
“No.”
He cut her off with a harshness I had never heard from him.
“You are not going to minimize this. Not now.”
He turned back to me.
“Mom, I heard how she talked about you with her friends. How she made fun of you, how she planned… God.”
He ran his hands over his face.
“How she planned to convince me to send you to a nursing home when you were no longer useful.”
Emily sobbed.
“No, I didn’t mean it. It was just… it was frustration.”
“You didn’t mean it?”
Daniel’s voice rose.
“There’s a recording from October where you tell your sister—and I quote—‘As soon as the old woman gets sick or starts with dementia, we’ll send her to a cheap nursing home and keep the whole house.’ You didn’t mean that either.”
Emily’s face crumpled.
Megan, smelling blood in the water, took out her laptop.
“Would you like to listen to the recordings here in the presence of the notary? I have certified copies.”
“No,” Emily said quickly. “That’s not necessary.”
“Oh, I think it is,” Megan said with a shark-like smile. “Because my client not only has recordings, she also has witness statements from neighbors about the treatment she received, photographs of humiliating messages, and a detailed record of psychological abuse and financial exploitation.”
Emily turned completely pale.
“Financial exploitation,” Megan repeated, “is a crime, especially when it involves senior citizens. We could not only win the house, Mrs. Ruiz, we could take this to criminal court.”
“No.”
Emily stood up abruptly.
“Please, that’s not necessary. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Sit down,” Daniel ordered.
Emily collapsed back into her chair, trembling.
Mr. Hector, who had observed everything in silence, spoke in a grave voice.
“Mrs. Emily, I have known Mrs. Beatatrice for thirty years. She is a woman of honor, and you, forgive my frankness, treated her like dirt.”
Emily buried her face in her hands.
“I know,” she moaned. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
I finally asked.
My voice came out colder than I expected.
“Are you sorry you humiliated me, or are you sorry you got caught?”
