Martin laid out several documents. “Civil suit for fraud and breach of contract. Criminal complaint for theft by deception—which is a felony over three thousand dollars. Restraining order preventing contact. And we file all of this publicly, which means it becomes part of the court record. Searchable. Permanent.”
I thought about Sophie, about the young woman who’d spent countless afternoons in this apartment, who I’d taught to bake and helped with homework. I thought about the grandmother-granddaughter relationship I’d hoped to have. Then I thought about being turned away at the entrance while two hundred people watched.
“File everything,” I said.
The next morning, my phone started ringing at dawn. I let every call go to voicemail. By noon, I had forty-seven messages. I listened to them all once, taking notes. Avery’s voice progressed from confused to angry to desperate. Taylor’s messages were defensive, then accusatory, then almost pleading. Sophie called twice, her voice thick with tears, asking why I was trying to ruin her happiness.