She nodded weakly. “He forged my signature. Said the money was needed for debts. Then he disappeared.” Her voice cracked apart. “Months later, I discovered he was living downtown with Vanessa. Penthouse. Cars. Parties. He told everyone I was unstable. Addicted. That I abandoned him.”
My hands slowly curled into fists.
Anna looked away from me. “I tried lawyers. Nobody believed me. Mark had documents. Witnesses. Money. He said if I fought him, he’d make sure I never saw Emma again.”
My granddaughter. Seven years old.
“Where is Emma?” I asked.
“With them.” Anna’s voice sounded barely alive. “He said a homeless mother has no rights.”
I helped her to her feet. She weighed almost nothing.
At my house, she stood beneath the shower until the water turned cold. I made soup while she sat wrapped in blankets. She ate with trembling hands. Every few bites, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
For a long time, I said nothing.
Then I opened the old safe hidden behind the bookshelf in my study.
