Chapter 5 - Patrick’s Last Version of the Truth
Patrick arrived at the Moretti estate just after ten the following
morning.
He did not come alone.
A man in a navy suit walked beside him, carrying a leather briefcase.
Patrick’s expression was composed, his hair neatly combed, his wedding
jacket replaced by an expensive charcoal coat.
He looked like a man arriving for a business negotiation.
Not a husband who had lied to his wife, frightened his child, and
attempted to use their home as collateral.
Enzo met him at the entrance.
“Mr. Bennett. You can speak with the attorneys in the library.”
“I want to see my daughter.”
“Any contact with Sophie will be arranged through her mother and her
advocate.”
Patrick’s jaw tightened.
“She is my daughter.”
“And she is frightened,” Enzo replied.
Patrick looked past him and saw me standing in the hallway.
“Julia.”
I didn’t move.
His attorney introduced himself as Mark Ellison. Rachel Kim was already
waiting in the library, along with Dana Brooks and a representative from
the lender’s fraud department, who had joined by video.
Patrick looked annoyed.
“This is excessive.”
Rachel gestured toward a chair.
“Please sit down.”
He sat.
The first question was simple.
“Did you submit a mortgage application using Julia Bennett’s signature?”
Patrick folded his hands.
“I submitted a refinancing application for a property we jointly own.”
“Did Julia sign it?”
“She was aware we were discussing refinancing.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
He looked toward me.
“Julia knew the family needed money.”
“I knew you wanted me to sign papers,” I said. “I did not know you were
using our home to buy a house for Isabella.”
Patrick’s expression hardened.
“You’re twisting it.”
Dana placed the copy of the application on the table.
“Is this your company’s submission?”
Patrick glanced at it.
“I’d have to review it.”
“The application came from your office account.”
“My employees handle dozens of files.”
“The signature was notarized by an employee who reports to you.”
He said nothing.
Rachel moved to the next document.
“Did you tell the school that Julia had relinquished primary care of
Sophie?”
“I told them we were making arrangements.”
“Did you have a court order?”
“No.”
“Did Julia sign a consent form?”
Patrick looked at me.
“She knew Sophie needed more support than she could provide.”
I felt my face grow hot.
“She is deaf. She is not a problem to be sent away.”
“I never said she was.”
“You told her she would never see me again.”
Patrick’s expression flickered.
“She misunderstood.”
Rachel turned toward the interpreter’s notes.
“Sophie has described what you told her. We have asked that she not be
questioned repeatedly. Her account will be obtained through an
appropriate professional.”
Patrick leaned back.
“This is all because Julia can’t accept that our marriage is over.”
I stared at him.
“You kissed me goodbye that morning.”
He shrugged.
“People separate before they move out.”
“You shared my bed. You ate the dinner I cooked. You asked me to pack
your lunch.”
“I was trying to keep things calm.”
“You were pretending.”
He didn’t answer.
The lender representative spoke from the screen.
“The funds have not been released. The application is under review due
to the disputed signature. We will require original documentation and
may refer the matter to the appropriate authorities.”
Patrick’s attorney leaned toward him and whispered.
For the first time, Patrick looked worried.
Rachel closed her folder.
“Until the legal process is resolved, we are asking that you have no
unsupervised contact with Sophie and that you refrain from approaching
Julia’s residence. These are requests at this stage. We will seek formal
orders through the court.”
Patrick stood.
“You can’t keep my daughter from me.”
“No one is making that decision in this room,” Rachel said. “A court
will consider Sophie’s safety and best interests.”
Patrick turned toward me.
“You’re going to regret this.”
Luca, who had been standing by the window, stepped forward.
“Don’t threaten her.”
Patrick scoffed.
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“It became my concern when you used my sister’s wedding to stage a lie.”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed.
“Your family thinks money can solve everything.”
“No,” Luca replied. “But evidence can expose a lie.”
Patrick looked around the room.
He had arrived expecting to control the conversation. Instead, every
person present had a document, a record, or a question he could not
answer.
He picked up his briefcase.
“This isn’t over.”
Rachel stood.
“No. It isn’t.”
When Patrick left, I felt my knees weaken.
I sat down.
Luca offered me a glass of water.
I accepted it.
“Will he come back?” I asked.
“Not without consequences,” Rachel said. “We’ll make sure the proper
protections are in place.”
I looked toward the door through which Patrick had disappeared.
For fourteen years, I had thought the hardest thing would be leaving
him.
I was beginning to understand that the harder thing was refusing to let
May you like
him rewrite what had happened.
And I was done letting him tell our story for us.
