Petitioner: Richard Hayes. Respondent: Claire Hayes.
My father was suing me.
Not for money exactly. That would have been easier to understand. Easier to fight. He was suing for control—sole authority over the Hayes family estate, exclusive management of the land, the house, the outbuildings, everything tied to the family name.
The petition dressed itself up in words like continuity, preservation, legacy, and public integrity. Underneath all that language, it accused me of abandonment. Neglect. Failure to fulfill family obligations.
And then there was the phrase that made me laugh once, sharply, before I could stop myself.
Conduct unbecoming.
I read it again just to make sure the absurdity was real.
“Conduct unbecoming,” I said aloud.
Duke lifted his head.
“It’s fine,” I told him. “We’ve been called worse.”
That night I didn’t sleep. I sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee that went cold beside my hand and thought about calling someone. A lawyer. A friend. Anybody. But every possible call came with the same cost: explanation. And I was tired of explaining myself to people who had no intention of really knowing me.