Chapter 7 - BRENDA CHOOSES A SIDE
Brenda asked to meet Audrey in person. Paige insisted on choosing the location. They met in a quiet conference room at Paige’s office, where the windows overlooked downtown San Diego and the door remained open to the reception area.
Brenda arrived carrying a canvas grocery tote. For one strange second, Audrey thought of the bags she had been holding when she heard the first slap. Then Brenda placed the tote on the table.
It was full of folders. “I kept copies,” she said. “Of what?” Paige asked. “Everything I thought might become important.” Dustin’s mother looked ten years older than she had during her knee surgery.
Her shoulders were rounded. Her hands shook when she removed the first folder. “I knew about Cedar Pike,” she said. Audrey did not respond. “I knew the boys were investing together.
I did not know how much of your money Dustin had moved at first.” “At first,” Audrey repeated. Brenda lowered her eyes.
“I found out six months ago.” Audrey felt the old instinct to protect Brenda rise inside her. She crushed it. “And you said nothing.” “No.” “Why?”
“Because they told me it would be paid back before you noticed.” Audrey laughed softly. It was not amusement. “So you were waiting for them to succeed.” Brenda began to cry.
“I was waiting for the problem to disappear.” “That’s different.” Brenda nodded. “Yes.” Inside the folders were printouts of emails Wyatt had left on Brenda’s home printer, handwritten notes from meetings, and copies of loan projections.
One page contained four possible funding options if Cedar Pike defaulted. Sell property. Bring in outside investor. Refinance Audrey and Dustin’s apartment. Rollover Audrey’s retirement assets. The last option had been circled.
“Who circled this?” Paige asked. “Dustin.” Audrey stared at the ink. Her husband had sat somewhere, pen in hand, and selected her retirement as a solution to a problem he had hidden from her.
Brenda pulled out another sheet. “This is why I finally decided to help you.” It was a handwritten page. At the top, Wyatt had written: BEATRICE PROBLEM. Below it were three bullets.
Move out before signing. Cash theft creates pressure. A says choose marriage or mother. Audrey’s eyes stopped on the final line. A. “Who is A?” she asked. Brenda wiped her face.
“You.” Audrey looked again. A says choose marriage or mother. A was Audrey. The sentence was not a note about Beatrice. It was a prediction about Audrey. They had planned the ultimatum.
Her reaction had been part of their strategy. “I was supposed to send her away,” Audrey whispered. Brenda nodded. “They thought you would.” Beatrice, who had been silent until then, spoke.
“And after I left?” Brenda’s mouth trembled. “They were going to tell Audrey the business was in trouble.
Dustin would say he had made a mistake but that the only way to save the apartment and the marriage was to sign the refinancing papers.” Audrey sat very still.
The violence had not been random. It had been pressure applied to a plan. Dustin expected Audrey to choose him, feel guilty for doubting him, and then sign the papers to prove she still trusted the marriage.
The realization was almost elegant in its cruelty. Paige collected the documents. “Brenda, are you prepared to authenticate these?” “Yes.” “Even if your sons accuse you of betraying them?” Brenda looked at Audrey.
“I already betrayed someone.” The sentence hung in the room. After the meeting, Audrey walked alone for two blocks before Paige caught up. “You okay?” “No.” “Good answer.” Audrey stopped near a crosswalk.
“I keep thinking about all the times I called Brenda family.” “She can be family and still have failed you.” “I don’t know what she is now.” “You don’t have to decide today.” That evening, Dustin sent Paige a settlement proposal.
He offered to return eighty thousand dollars within thirty days. In exchange, Audrey would agree that Cedar Pike was a mutual marital investment, waive claims related to the remaining transfers, and state that the altercation with Beatrice was a private family misunderstanding.
Audrey read the proposal once. Then she slid it back across Paige’s desk. “No.” Paige nodded. “I assumed.”
“Not because the number is too low.” “I know.” “He wants paper saying I agreed.” “Yes.” “Then he can show lenders I knew.” “Possibly.” Audrey looked at the city lights outside.
“He still thinks this is about getting enough money back.” “What is it about?” “The truth being attached to his name.” The next day, Malik discovered where most of the remaining savings had gone.
A title company held $96,000 in a restricted escrow account connected to Cedar Pike’s property refinancing. The funds had not yet been released.
Paige immediately moved to preserve any claim Audrey might have to the money while the financial dispute was litigated. For the first time, there was a realistic path to recovering a substantial portion.
Then another development arrived. Leonard Shaw’s name appeared in state regulatory records. He had once held a financial advisory license. It had lapsed two years earlier.
Paige referred the documents to the appropriate authorities rather than trying to investigate him herself. By that evening, Dustin was no longer the only person under scrutiny. Wyatt called Audrey from a blocked number.
She did not answer. He left a voicemail. “You’re making this bigger than it needs to be. Cedar Pike can still work.
Dustin made mistakes, but you’re going to burn all of us because your mother opened one drawer.” Audrey forwarded it to Paige. Ten minutes later, another voicemail arrived. This time Wyatt sounded angry.
“You took care of this family for years. Don’t pretend you suddenly hate us.” Audrey listened twice. He thought generosity was evidence of obligation. That explained more than she wanted it to.
May you like
Then Tristan called. His message was different. “I’m sorry.” Only two words. A minute later, he sent a photograph. It showed a whiteboard inside Brenda’s garage.
Across the top was written: FRIDAY — SIGN OR RESTRUCTURE. Beneath it were three names. Dustin. Wyatt. Leonard. Tristan’s message followed. I was there. I should have stopped it. I’ll tell the truth. The family wall had finally cracked.
