Chapter 3 - LUCAS SAID TABITHA HAD BEEN PRACTICING QUESTIONS WITH HIMRebecca landed in Nashville shortly after 1:00 a.m.
Rachel met her outside baggage claim.
No hugs.
No wasted time.
“Temporary emergency motion is filed.”
“To stop tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“The video?”
“Submitted under seal.”
“Good.”
“Child services?”
“Already notified.”
Rebecca climbed into Rachel’s car.
“Police?”
“Alma’s video was provided.”
“Are they at the mansion?”
“A unit went.”
Rebecca turned.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Her heart raced.
“Lucas?”
“Still with Alma.”
“Tabitha?”
“Asked to stay away from him pending investigation.”
Rebecca exhaled.
Not relief.
Not yet.
“What about the guardianship hearing?”
“Still scheduled unless the judge cancels or converts it.”
Rebecca stared through the windshield.
“I want Lucas out tonight.”
Rachel nodded.
“So do I.”
They reached the mansion at 2:07.
The front doors were open.
Two police vehicles outside.
Rebecca barely waited for the car to stop.
She ran in.
“Lucas?”
Alma appeared at the top of the staircase.
Rebecca looked behind her.
Lucas stepped out.
Small.
Clean pajamas now.
Hair damp from Alma washing away the grime.
Rebecca stopped.
He did too.
For one second Lucas looked unsure.
Then:
“Mom!”
Rebecca climbed the stairs.
Dropped to her knees.
Lucas ran into her.
She held him.
Not so tightly that he couldn’t move.
“I’m here.”
“You came back.”
“Yes.”
“Tabitha said—”
“I know.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“I know what she said.”
Lucas began crying.
“I was bad.”
“No.”
“I made her mad.”
“No.”
“She said Dad would be disappointed.”
Rebecca pulled back enough to look at him.
“Your father loved you.”
Lucas’s mouth trembled.
“Even when I’m bad?”
“You’re allowed to make mistakes.”
“What happened tonight was not because you were bad.”
Lucas stared at her.
Rebecca wanted to ask everything.
Rachel touched her shoulder.
“Not all tonight.”
Right.
Lucas needed safety before interrogation.
Rebecca asked:
“Can we go home?”
Lucas nodded quickly.
“Yes.”
Then hesitated.
“My cars.”
“Which cars?”
“Dad’s model cars.”
Rebecca looked at Alma.
Alma understood.
“Tomorrow.”
Lucas nodded.
That was enough.
As Rebecca stood, Lucas whispered:
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do I have to tell the judge what Tabitha taught me?”
Rebecca froze.
Rachel did too.
“What did she teach you?”
Lucas looked frightened.
“She said I had to practice.”
“Practice what?”
“Answers.”
Rebecca crouched again.
“What answers?”
Lucas looked toward the hallway.
Tabitha was downstairs with an officer.
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“You are not in trouble.”
Lucas swallowed.
“She asked, ‘Who takes care of you when Mom leaves?’”
“What did she tell you to say?”
“Tabitha.”
Rebecca’s stomach tightened.
“What else?”
“‘Where do you feel safest?’”
“And?”
“Dad’s house.”
“What else?”
Lucas’s eyes filled.
“She said if I said Mom’s house, Dad’s things would go away.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
Blackmailing a six-year-old with his dead father’s belongings.
“What else?”
“‘Does Mom work too much?’”
Rebecca kept her face calm.
“What did she tell you?”
“To say yes.”
Lucas began crying.
“I didn’t want to.”
“You don’t have to say anything she told you.”
“But she said a lady would ask tomorrow.”
Rachel’s expression hardened.
The emergency hearing.
Tabitha had been rehearsing him.
Rebecca asked carefully:
“Did anyone else practice with you?”
Lucas thought.
“A man.”
Rebecca’s pulse changed.
“What man?”
“On the computer.”
“Video call?”
He nodded.
“Do you know his name?”
“Mr. Shore.”
Caleb.
Rachel looked away, furious.
“How many times?”
Lucas held up three fingers.
Rebecca felt cold.
Caleb had not merely notarized a fake document.
He had directly participated in preparing Lucas for a custody proceeding.
“What did Caleb tell you?”
Lucas sniffed.
“He said I had to tell the truth.”
Rebecca waited.
“Then Tabitha told me what the truth was.”
Rachel whispered:
“That’s enough.”
She was right.
The rest belonged with trained interviewers.
Rebecca took Lucas home.
Her house was smaller than the Mercer mansion.
Warm wood floors.
Family pictures.
Lucas’s dinosaur blanket on the sofa.
He stopped just inside the doorway.
Then looked at Rebecca.
“Can Tabitha come here?”
“No.”
“Can she take me?”
“No one is taking you tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
Rebecca didn’t promise what a court controlled.
She knelt.
“Tomorrow, I will be there.”
Lucas studied her.
“Even if you have work?”
Rebecca’s heart broke.
“Yes.”
She turned off her phone.
Right in front of him.
“Work can wait.”
Lucas watched.
Then hugged her.
He fell asleep in her bed at 4:00 a.m.
Rebecca did not.
Rachel sat at the kitchen table.
Documents spread everywhere.
At 4:38, an email arrived from the probate court archives.
Rachel opened it.
“Rebecca.”
“What?”
“I found the original trust summary.”
Rebecca looked over.
Ethan Mercer’s estate placed $36 million in assets for Lucas.
More importantly, the trust held forty-two percent of Mercer Audio Holdings, Ethan’s privately owned music-equipment company.
Rebecca stared.
“I thought Tabitha inherited the company.”
“She inherited income rights from part of it.”
“Voting control?”
“Lucas.”
Rebecca frowned.
“A six-year-old?”
“Through the trustee.”
“Until?”
“Twenty-five.”
Rachel scrolled.
“There’s a clause.”
“What?”
“If Lucas’s surviving legal parent is unable or unwilling to act in his interests, the court-appointed guardian becomes his personal representative in trust matters.”
Rebecca felt cold.
“There it is.”
“But guardian doesn’t automatically control the money.”
“No.”
Rachel looked at her.
“But the guardian can petition the trustee.”
“For what?”
“Distributions.”
“Asset sales.”
“Certain votes.”
Rebecca stared at the screen.
Tabitha didn’t need to own Lucas’s trust.
She needed a legal seat at the table.
Then Rachel found another document.
A proposed sale.
Mercer Audio Holdings had received an offer six months earlier.
$118 million.
Ethan rejected it before his death.
The buyer renewed the offer last week.
Rebecca looked at the name.
Northline Equity Partners.
Attached email:
Tabitha Mercer supports immediate sale. Trustee has declined pending representation clarity for minor beneficiary.
Rebecca went still.
Representation clarity.
Lucas.
The buyer was waiting for someone with legal standing to push the deal.
Rachel whispered:
“Tomorrow’s guardianship order isn’t the end of her plan.”
May you like
Rebecca stared at her sleeping son.
“It’s the beginning.”
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