It’s Brenda. Please. I’m outside the Wilson gate. I came alone.
My heart kicked once, hard.
I stood and crossed to the window, though the front gate was too far to see from my room.
Another text.
I know you recorded us. I know how it sounded. But Elias lied to me too.
For a long moment, I simply stared.
Then I took the phone downstairs.
My father’s response was immediate.
“No.”
Rebecca, who had returned after dinner with another folder of documents, was more measured.
“She came to the gate. That is either reckless, desperate, or strategic.”
“She can say anything through counsel,” my father said.
“She could,” Rebecca replied. “But if she is frightened, she may not trust formal channels.”
I looked between them. “I want to hear what she has to say.”
My father turned to me. “Ellie—”
“I won’t go alone. She doesn’t come inside the house. We meet in the east garden with security nearby. Rebecca stays with me.”
