Chapter 6: The Person Who Betrayed Us
The name on the document belonged to someone I never expected.
My own sister.
Linda.
Malcolm’s aunt.
The woman who held Isaiah the day he was born.
The woman who cried when Rachel died.
The woman who told me, “That boy will always have family.””
I stared at the signature.
Unable to understand it.
“Linda signed this?””
Tasha leaned back.
“Yes.””
Malcolm looked devastated.
“That’s not possible.””
“Oh, it’s possible.””
He shook his head.
“She loves Isaiah.””
Tasha smiled.
“Love doesn’t mean someone agrees with you.””
I looked at her.
“What did you tell her?””
“Nothing.””
“Try again.””
Her expression tightened.
“I told her the truth.””
“No.””
I held up the document.
“This says Malcolm has emotional issues.””
She nodded.
“He does.””
Malcolm looked at her.
“Excuse me?””
“You were depressed after Rachel died.””
“I was grieving.””
“You disappeared emotionally.””
“I was taking care of my son.””
“You were barely holding yourself together.””
The cruel part was that some of it was true.
And that was how manipulation worked.
It took pieces of reality and rearranged them into a weapon.
I turned to Malcolm.
“Call Linda.””
He hesitated.
Then he did.
She answered quickly.
“Malcolm?””
His voice was quiet.
“Did you sign a statement against me?””
Silence.
Then:
“Where did you hear that?””
His eyes closed.
“So you did.””
Linda sighed.
“I was trying to help.””
“Help who?””
Another pause.
“Isaiah.””
My blood boiled.
“How?””
She sounded emotional.
“I thought you weren’t seeing clearly.””
Malcolm gripped the phone.
“What did Tasha tell you?””
“That you were angry all the time.””
“I’m angry because my son was neglected.””
“That’s exactly what she said.””
The room went quiet.
Linda continued.
“She said you were obsessed with blaming her.””
Malcolm laughed bitterly.
“Because she spent my money and didn’t provide for Isaiah?””
“I didn’t know that.””
“Exactly.””
I stepped closer.
“Linda.””
She went silent.
“Did you ever talk to Isaiah?””
A pause.
“No.””
“Did you ask him what he needed?””
Another pause.
“No.””
“Then why did you sign?””
Her voice cracked.
“Because I trusted Tasha.””
Those words hurt.
Because everyone had trusted the wrong person.
After the call ended, Malcolm sat down.
He looked exhausted.
But something had changed.
The confusion was gone.
Now there was clarity.
“We need a lawyer.””
I nodded.
“Yes.””
That night, we contacted an attorney.
The next morning, Isaiah came to my house.
When he walked through the door, he looked nervous.
“Dad?””
Malcolm knelt immediately.
“Hey, buddy.””
Isaiah looked at him.
“Am I in trouble?””
The question destroyed both of us.
“No,” Malcolm said.
“Never.””
Isaiah looked confused.
“Then why does everyone keep talking about me?””
Malcolm pulled him into a hug.
And for the first time in months, maybe years, Isaiah let himself be held.
“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispered.
Isaiah didn’t say anything.
He just held onto his father.
Later that afternoon, our lawyer reviewed everything.
The bank records.
The school reports.
The messages.
The documents.
Then he looked at us.
“There’s something you need to know.””
“What?””
He placed another paper on the table.
“This isn’t just about money.””
I frowned.
“What do you mean?””
He pointed to the document.
“Tasha has been building a case against Malcolm for months.””
My stomach tightened.
“How?””
“She’s been collecting statements claiming Isaiah is emotionally unstable.””
“That’s a lie.””
“Yes.””
The lawyer looked serious.
“But there’s more.””
“What?””
He tapped another page.
“She requested a psychological evaluation.””
“For Isaiah?””
He nodded.
“Why?””
The lawyer looked at Malcolm.
“Because if she can prove he has behavioral problems, she can argue that he needs stability.””
I felt sick.
“She created the problem.””
“And now she wants to use it against him.””
That was the moment everything became clear.
The missing supplies.
The stolen money.
The isolation.
The silence.
It wasn’t random.
It was a plan.
A terrible, careful plan.
That evening, I received another message from the unknown number.
One sentence.
No explanation.
No warning.
Just:
*You still don’t know the worst part.*
Attached was a photograph.
A hospital document.
Rachel’s name was on it.
And below her name was a note written three days before she died.
I opened it.
May you like
And the first sentence made my hands go cold.
*If something happens to me, do not let Tasha become Isaiah’s guardian.*
