Chapter 3 - The Secret Meeting
By noon, the legal maneuvering had begun in earnest.
I was sitting in the small, glass-walled family consultation room down the hall from the ICU. Dean was still asleep in his room, his hands wrapped in soft, medicated gauze to treat the mild frostbite on his fingers. Hannah was awake, but she was quiet, her small body hooked to an oxygen monitor that beeped in a slow, comforting rhythm.
The door to the consultation room opened quietly.
Joshua stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He had dismissed his lawyers and his wife, and for the first time since this nightmare began, he looked truly terrified.
"Willow," he said, his voice a low, urgent whisper as he stepped toward the table. "We need to talk. Person to person. Brother to sister."
"We have nothing to say to each other, Joshua," I said, keeping my hands flat on the table.
"Yes, we do," he said, leaning over the table, his eyes darting to the glass walls to ensure no one was listening. "Look... I know I messed up. Jane and I... we’ve been having problems. The casino trip was an attempt to save our marriage. It was a stupid, selfish mistake, okay? I admit it. But you can't let Carla Evans take my kids."
"I’m not letting her take them," I said. "I passed the inspection. They are coming to live with me."
Joshua let out a short, dry chuckle that sounded incredibly hollow. "With you? On an ER nurse’s salary? In that tiny, cramped duplex in the bad part of town? Willow, be realistic. You can't provide for them. You don't have the resources."
"I have love, Joshua. And I have a roof that doesn't lock them out in the snow."
He winced, but his expression quickly hardened into something much more calculating. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek, black leather checkbook. He opened it, slid a premium gold fountain pen from his pocket, and wrote a number on the blank page.
He didn't tear the check out. He just left the book open on the table, pointing to the number.
Fifty thousand dollars.
"This is just the start," Joshua whispered, his eyes burning into mine. "I’ll deposit this into your account today. And I’ll pay you five thousand dollars a month, tax-free, under the table. All you have to do is tell the caseworker that you made a mistake. Tell her that Dean was confused. Tell her that Jane and I had arranged for a babysitter who failed to show up. We’ll blame the agency."
I stared at the check. The numbers seemed to float on the page, a representation of everything Joshua believed could be bought: loyalty, safety, truth, and the lives of his own children.
"You’re trying to bribe me," I said, my voice incredibly flat.
"It's not a bribe, Willow," he said, his tone softening into a disgusting, manipulative warmth. "It's a family helper. We’re Harts, remember? We protect each other. If this goes to a formal hearing, my career is over. I’ll lose my partnership at the firm. Jane’s family will cut us off. If I fall, everyone falls. Think about Dean and Hannah. Do you want them to grow up with a father who is bankrupt and ruined?"
"They’re growing up with a father who is a coward, Joshua," I said.
I reached out, took the gold fountain pen from his hand, and drew a thick, black line directly through the middle of the fifty-thousand-dollar check. I pressed down so hard the gold nib of the pen bent with a sharp, metallic snap.
"Take your money," I said, sliding the checkbook back toward him. "And keep your mouth shut. Because every word you say makes me want to throw up."
Joshua’s face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He snatched the ruined book from the table, his knuckles turning white as he leaned down until his breath brushed my cheek.
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"You think you’re so righteous, Willow," he hissed. "But you’re nothing. You’re a single, thirty-six-year-old nurse living in a rented box. By this time tomorrow, my lawyers will have filed a motion to dispute your guardianship. We will drag your name through the mud. We will audit your finances, your medical records, your work history. By the time we’re done, the court won't even let you adopt a cat, let alone my children."
"Then I'll see you in court, brother," I said.
