CHAPTER 8: THE WALL
For a while, there was nothing.
No calls. No messages. No threats. Nothing.
I thought it was over. I thought they'd given up.
Then a sheriff's deputy showed up at my door with a summons.
I'd been sued.
My mother had actually done it.
I read the papers standing in my doorway, the deputy waiting patiently. The complaint was three pages of accusations. Fraud. Misrepresentation. Breach of implied contract.
They were asking for fifty thousand dollars in damages.
The amount I'd given them over three years.
They wanted me to pay them for the privilege of being their doormat.
I called Peter Williams.
"It's not a strong case," he said. "Implied contract requires proof that you both intended to enter into a legal agreement. Your bank records show you were making voluntary payments, not fulfilling an obligation."
"So what do we do?"
"We counter-file. We ask for discovery. We get them in depositions. And we make them tell the truth under oath."
I thought about that. My mother under oath. My father. Lauren. Derek. Eric.
"I want to see their faces," I said. "When they have to admit what they did."
"We can do that."
We scheduled the deposition for three weeks later.
I spent those weeks getting ready. Not just legally—emotionally. I saw a therapist. I talked about the years of neglect, the constant belittling, the way they'd made me feel like I was never enough.
"You've been trauma-bonded," my therapist said. "They conditioned you to give and give and never ask for anything in return."
"Can I break it?"
"You already have. You just need to stay broken."
On the day of the deposition, I put on my best suit. Black, tailored, professional. I looked like a woman who had her life together.
Because I did.
May you like
I'd finally gotten my life together.
And I was about to show them exactly what that looked like.
