Chapter 5 - The Evidence Hidden in My Own Home
The custody petition didn’t frighten me because I believed Dominic would win.
It frightened me because of the confidence behind it.
Dominic did not improvise legal strategies.
He hired people.
Prepared.
Collected leverage.
Rebecca spread the documents across Dad’s dining table.
“They’re alleging emotional instability, impulsive behavior, interference by your father, and denial of paternal access.”
“I never denied access.”
“You’ve been separated for forty-eight hours.”
“Exactly.”
Rebecca nodded.
“They’re creating a record early.”
Dad sat opposite us.
“What evidence?”
Rebecca turned pages.
“Statements.”
“From whom?”
She hesitated.
“His mother.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“And his sister.”
That hurt more.
Serena and I had never been close, but I had defended her more than once when Victoria criticized her.
“What does Serena say?”
“That you became increasingly anxious and emotional during pregnancy.”
“I was pregnant.”
Rebecca gave a faint smile.
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“That Dominic carried most household responsibilities.”
This time I did laugh.
It came out bitter.
Dad looked down.
Rebecca continued.
“There’s also a statement from your former housekeeper.”
My smile vanished.
“Maria?”
“Yes.”
Maria Alvarez had worked for us twice a week for almost two years.
She had quit three months earlier.
Dominic told me she moved to Queens and found a full-time position.
“What did Maria say?”
Rebecca slid a copy across the table.
I read.
According to the statement, I frequently cried.
Stayed in bed.
Forgot meals.
Complained of exhaustion.
Needed help maintaining the apartment.
All technically possible during late pregnancy.
All twisted into something darker.
“She never said I was dangerous.”
“No.”
“She never said I couldn’t care for myself.”
“No.”
“Then why is this here?”
“To create context.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“Can we talk to Maria?”
“We’re trying to locate her.”
Dad spoke.
“Why did she leave?”
“Dominic said she got another job.”
I thought back.
Maria had been strangely quiet during her final week.
She hugged me before leaving.
Longer than usual.
She said, “Take care of yourself, Mrs. Prescott.”
I had thought she meant pregnancy.
Now I wasn’t sure.
Evelyn entered carrying her tablet.
“We found her.”
Rebecca stood.
“Where?”
“Queens.”
An hour later, Maria joined by video call.
She looked nervous.
“Audrey.”
“Hi, Maria.”
Her eyes immediately filled.
“How is the baby?”
“He’s good.”
“Thank God.”
I held Leo toward the screen.
She smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She looked down.
“Mr. Prescott made me sign that paper.”
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
“He said it was for insurance.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Maria, did you read it?”
“Some.”
“Did you understand it?”
“No. English legal words… difficult.”
“Did Mr. Prescott explain what it said?”
“He said it just says Mrs. Prescott was tired and I helped more during pregnancy.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why did you leave?”
Maria went quiet.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Because I saw something.”
The room stilled.
“What?”
“One day, Mr. Prescott was in office. He leave papers on desk. I clean after.”
She swallowed.
“I see your name.”
“What kind of papers?”
“Bank papers.”
Rebecca’s posture changed.
“Did you see Audrey sign them?”
Maria shook her head.
“No. I saw Mr. Prescott practicing.”
My stomach turned.
“Practicing what?”
“Your signature.”
Dad slowly stood.
Maria continued.
“He had old birthday card from you. He look at signature. Write it again and again.”
No one spoke.
“I was scared,” Maria whispered. “Next day, he ask if I saw anything. I say no.”
“What happened after?”
“He gave me money.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
“For what?”
“To leave job.”
I stared at the screen.
Maria began crying softly.
“I should tell you. I’m sorry.”
“You were scared.”
“He said if I talk, nobody hire me.”
Rebecca wrote quickly.
“Maria, do you still have anything from that day?”
Maria hesitated.
Then nodded.
“When I clean, one paper fall behind cabinet.”
“What paper?”
“I keep it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She disappeared from the screen.
Returned carrying a plastic folder.
She held up a sheet.
Even through the camera, I recognized it.
My signature.
Repeated across the bottom.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Dominic had practiced my name until he could write it like me.
Dad turned away.
For the first time since this began, I saw genuine rage in him.
Not loud.
Not uncontrolled.
Worse.
Silent.
Rebecca arranged for the original paper to be collected.
The custody strategy changed immediately.
So did the financial case.
Dominic had expected me to defend my emotions.
Instead, he now had to explain handwriting practice sheets.
That evening, I received a text.
Not from Dominic.
Serena.
Can we talk privately?
I showed Rebecca.
“Your choice.”
I called.
Serena answered immediately.
“Audrey.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m sorry.”
“About the statement?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Was it true?”
“Some.”
“Which parts?”
“You were tired. You cried.”
“I was eight months pregnant.”
“I know.”
“Then why sign it?”
“Mom told me.”
There it was.
Victoria.
Again.
“She said Dominic could lose Leo because your father was powerful.”
“My father hasn’t tried to take Leo from Dominic.”
“I know that now.”
“Didn’t you know it then?”
Serena began crying.
Quietly.
“I don’t know what I knew.”
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then she said something unexpected.
“Audrey, there’s more.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“Mom knows about the loans.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She could hear through speaker.
“How?”
“She helped Dominic.”
The room became silent.
“With what?”
“Mail.”
“What mail?”
“Some bank letters came when you were home. Mom would pick them up.”
My skin prickled.
“Why would Victoria receive my mail?”
“She had Dominic make copies of your mailbox key.”
I stared at the phone.
Serena continued.
“I thought they were hiding business problems so you wouldn’t stress during pregnancy.”
“How long?”
“At least a year.”
A year.
While I decorated Leo’s nursery.
While I planned a future.
Dominic and Victoria were intercepting financial letters.
Serena sniffed.
“There’s something else.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“Tell me.”
“Mom has a safe in her townhouse.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Serena.”
“I saw copies of documents.”
“What documents?”
“Your trust papers.”
Dad turned.
His expression changed.
Trust papers were serious.
My grandmother had created a trust decades earlier with strict conditions.
Dominic shouldn’t have had access to most details.
“How did she get them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Serena’s voice broke.
“Because Mom wants me to say you neglected Leo at the hospital.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
“She said I should say you were confused after the birth and nurses worried about you.”
“That never happened.”
“I know.”
“Were you there?”
“Yes.”
“So you know.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Will you tell the truth?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
The next morning, Rebecca filed supplemental evidence.
Maria’s statement.
The handwriting sample.
Serena’s revised declaration.
The custody hearing was moved forward.
Dominic’s attorney withdrew several claims.
But Dominic himself did not surrender.
At 11:40 that night, my phone buzzed.
A voice message.
Dominic.
I hesitated.
Then played it.
“Audrey, listen to me. You’re making this bigger than it has to be. I know you’re angry. Fine. Hate me. Divorce me. Take the apartment. Take the car. But stop involving everyone. You don’t understand what happens if the company collapses.”
His voice became quieter.
“People lose jobs.”
A pause.
“Families get hurt.”
Then:
“You always said you cared about people.”
I stared at the phone.
There it was.
The old Dominic.
The one who could turn his consequences into my guilt.
I deleted the message.
Then another arrived.
This time, one sentence.
If you destroy me, Audrey, don’t expect me to go quietly.
Dad saw it.
Rebecca saw it.
We documented it.
And forty minutes later, Evelyn came into the room holding a printed email.
“You need to see this.”
The sender was anonymous.
The subject line read:
ASK DOMINIC ABOUT THE HOSPITAL INVESTMENT FUND.
Attached were spreadsheets.
Investor names.
Wire transfers.
Company accounts.
And one familiar name appeared repeatedly.
Victoria Prescott.
Dominic’s mother hadn’t merely helped conceal his actions.
She had money inside his failing company.
A lot of it.
May you like
And if those spreadsheets were real, she had every reason to keep me quiet.
Because the woman who had smiled from my SUV while I stood outside the hospital wasn’t just protecting her son—she might have been protecting millions of dollars.
