Chapter 13
Gene was arrested on New Year’s Eve.
Not for murder.
Not yet.
For kidnapping and unlawful confinement of Clara Hale.
The murder case needed more.
But the sight of Gene being led from her perfect house in handcuffs was enough to shake the entire family.
Neighbors watched.
Relatives cried.
Aunt Brenda whispered, “We all knew she was cruel. We didn’t know she was evil.”
I looked at her.
“Sometimes cruelty is evil practicing in public.”
She had no answer.
The family house legally transferred to Brandon pending trust review.
We did not move in.
Not yet.
The rooms still smelled like Gene’s perfume and fear.
Instead, Brandon opened the doors for investigators.
They found hidden safes.
Old ledgers.
Cash.
Jewelry that had belonged to Arthur’s mother.
And a locked nursery upstairs.
That room broke me.
It had never been used.
It was kept perfect.
White crib.
Silver brush.
Baby clothes boxed by size.
On the wall was a framed sonogram.
Brandon’s.
Gene had built a shrine to motherhood while starving everyone around her of love.
Inside the closet, Melissa found letters from Malcolm.
He had wanted to be part of Brandon’s life.
He had begged Gene to tell the truth.
One letter ended:
If Arthur loves him, I will not take him. I only want my son to know he was wanted.
Brandon read that line and walked outside.
I followed.
He stood under bare trees, shaking.
“I was wanted,” he whispered.
I hugged him from behind.
“You were.”
He looked toward the house.
“And Holly?”
“She was wanted too.”
May you like
His voice steadied.
“She will never doubt it again.”
