PART 2: The Knock on the Door
“Abandoned?” I repeated.
Ellie looked up from the sofa. I stepped into the hallway so she couldn’t see my face.
“The bank sent over the supporting paperwork after you flagged the application as unauthorized,” my attorney, Rachel, explained. “Your father claims he’s caring for Ellie because you’re no longer able to.”
“I was working. They promised to watch her.”
“A letter says you often disappear overnight. It also says they need money to build her a permanent bedroom.”
My legs went weak.
“They turned her away today.”
“Keep every message. And please don’t confront them directly.”
All at once, someone started pounding on the front door.
My brother, Mark, stood outside with our parents behind him.
“Let us in,” he demanded. “You can’t ruin their retirement over one misunderstanding.”
I kept the door locked.
Through the window, my mother spotted Ellie.
“Sweetheart, tell your mother you decided to leave.”
Ellie shrank behind Nina.
My father held up a folder.
“We were only trying to help you. Sign the acknowledgment, and we can straighten this out.”
“What acknowledgment are you talking about?”
“The one confirming you authorized us to manage the property.”
I put Rachel on speakerphone.
“Leave the paperwork on the porch,” she told them. “Claire won’t be signing anything tonight.”
Mark glanced at my phone.
“Are you recording this?”
“I am now.”
My mother suddenly burst into tears, her face changing almost instantly.
“We’ve given everything to this family.”
“Then why was my daughter left alone on Christmas?”
“She was supposed to stay outside,” Mark blurted.
My father snapped his head toward him.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Ellie stepped out from behind Nina.
“Uncle Mark told me I should walk home.”
Mark’s face hardened.
“He said Mom might finally understand.”
I could hear Rachel saying my name, but Ellie kept going.
“He held up his phone when I walked away. I think he was recording me.”
My heart sank.
Rachel asked, “Claire, does the camera at your front entrance save recordings?”
“Yes.”
“Download this afternoon’s footage. Right now.”
Nina went through the recordings while I kept my eyes on my relatives through the window.
My father lowered his paperwork.
Mark reached for his phone.
The footage showed Ellie struggling up our front steps, still clutching her presents.
About a minute later, Mark’s truck rolled slowly past our property.
He had followed her.
He knew exactly where she had gone.
Nina zoomed in on the video.
Someone was sitting in the passenger seat.
My mother.
While I had been frantically calling them, terrified for Ellie, they had been parked outside our empty house.
Then a message arrived from a number I didn’t know.
I work at your brother’s company. Please don’t sign any paperwork. Ellie isn’t the first person they’ve treated this way.
