Chapter 17 - Theo Was Supposed to Believe His Father Didn't Want HimAlistair read Malcolm's sentence until the words blurred.
ONCE THEY BELIEVE ALI AGREED, THEY'LL STOP ASKING TO GO HOME.
He understood the cruelty immediately.
The forged signature wasn't primarily for the school.
It was for the children.
Corinne had already shown Willa.
Theo had already asked:
Why did you sign?
The plan depended on hopelessness.
If Theo and Willa believed their father wanted them away, resistance would become pointless.
They would stop asking.
Stop calling.
Maybe eventually stop trusting him entirely.
Alistair sat alone in his mother's office after Brennan left.
He thought about every business decision he had treated as urgent while his children were learning whether home was reliable.
Then his mother entered.
Margaret Grant was seventy-one.
Elegant.
Sharp.
She had disliked Corinne from the beginning.
Alistair had dismissed that too.
“You look awful,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Your father used to say honesty was kindness.”
“Dad also told people they were getting fat.”
“That was less kind.”
She sat.
Alistair handed her the document.
She read.
Her face hardened.
“She wanted them to think you abandoned them.”
“Yes.”
Margaret folded the page.
“Do they know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I don't know what to tell them.”
“The opposite.”
He looked at her.
“Don't spend your time explaining Corinne's plan.”
“What then?”
“Tell them yours.”
Alistair frowned.
“What plan?”
Margaret gave him the look mothers gave sons when sons were particularly slow.
“For staying.”
He stared.
That night, he sat with Theo and Willa.
No documents.
No details.
Just three people on a couch.
“I need you both to know something.”
Willa immediately looked suspicious.
“What?”
“No matter what papers you saw, I never agreed to send you away.”
Theo nodded.
“You said.”
“I’m saying again.”
Willa watched him.
“What if we really needed a school someday?”
Alistair appreciated the question.
“Then we would talk about it together with real professionals, and you would know exactly what was happening.”
Theo asked:
“Would you come?”
“If a safe school ever made sense, yes. I'd visit. I'd call. I'd know every person there.”
He took a breath.
“But right now, no one is sending either of you anywhere.”
Willa looked at him.
“What if Corinne comes back?”
“She won't live with us.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
This promise he could make.
Theo's shoulders relaxed.
Alistair continued.
“And I'm changing something else.”
“What?”
“Work.”
Willa raised an eyebrow.
“You always say that.”
He laughed sadly.
“Correct.”
Theo almost smiled.
“So I'm not going to say it.”
They waited.
Alistair explained.
He had already spoken to his board.
Less travel.
No late nights three days a week.
Remote Fridays.
Not because work was evil.
Because his priorities had been dishonest.
He called family important while treating it as flexible.
Willa stared.
“Did you quit?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
“Thanks for your confidence.”
Theo asked:
“Can you come to my school thing Friday?”
Alistair froze.
He hadn't even known about it.
Willa groaned.
“See?”
Theo looked embarrassed.
Alistair took out his phone.
“What time?”
“Two.”
He checked.
Board review.
He moved it.
“Done.”
Theo stared.
“You can do that?”
Alistair laughed.
“Apparently.”
The Friday event was a fourth-grade reading afternoon.
Nothing major.
Parents sat on uncomfortable chairs while children read short stories.
Theo's story was about a boy lost in a forest.
The boy kept following signs left by someone he trusted.
The signs took him deeper into the woods.
Alistair listened, throat tight.
At the end, the boy stopped following signs and climbed a tree.
From above, he could finally see home.
Afterward Alistair asked:
“Did you write that?”
Theo nodded.
“It's good.”
“Mrs. Park helped.”
“What happens after he sees home?”
Theo shrugged.
“I don't know yet.”
Alistair smiled.
“That's okay.”
He understood the metaphor even if Theo didn't consciously mean one.
Sometimes getting out required seeing the entire path from somewhere higher.
The family was finally seeing theirs.
That evening Rachel called.
Corinne had agreed to a plea negotiation on certain financial and child-endangerment-related counts while other issues remained before the court.
She also agreed to permanent restrictions on unsupervised contact with Theo and Willa unless future court orders changed.
Alistair felt relief.
Then Rachel added:
“She's offering restitution.”
“To who?”
“The children's accounts and trust expenses.”
“With what money?”
“Her own assets.”
“Why?”
“Her lawyer says remorse.”
Alistair looked toward Theo's story on the counter.
“Does remorse require repayment?”
“No.”
“Then good.”
He didn't need to decide whether Corinne's remorse was pure.
Actions mattered.
Consequences mattered.
Then Rachel said:
“She wants to give you one thing.”
“What?”
“A recording.”
Alistair's stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
“Malcolm.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“What does he say?”
Rachel hesitated.
“It may explain why Corinne accelerated the plan.”
Alistair closed his eyes.
“Send it.”
The audio began with Malcolm laughing.
Then:
“You're running out of time.”
Corinne:
“I know.”
Malcolm:
“Once Alistair changes the trust, you're done.”
Corinne:
“He hasn't changed it yet.”
Malcolm:
“He will when Willa turns twelve.”
Alistair stopped the recording.
Willa's birthday.
Four months away.
He looked at Rachel's accompanying note.
A scheduled trust amendment existed in Elise's estate plan.
When Willa turned twelve, Alistair was required to appoint an independent co-trustee.
That meant outside oversight.
May you like
Corinne and Malcolm had not simply been racing against discovery.
They had been racing against a date.
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