Chapter 5
Mason took the stand first at the preliminary hearing.
He was a mess.
His suit was too big, his hair uncombed, his hands shaking so bad he could barely hold the water glass the bailiff handed him. He’d been in holding for a week, and the tough-guy act he’d always put on was gone.
His lawyer had cut a deal the day before—testify fully and truthfully against mom, plead guilty to conspiracy, and he’d get probation instead of prison time.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Your Honor,” he said, his voice cracking. “Teresa came to me six months ago, right after the baby was born. She said Connor was too soft, that he let Amy run the house, that they were wasting the money she deserved. She said if we played it right, we could take everything. The house, the truck, the savings. All of it.”
The prosecutor leaned against the witness stand.
“What was the plan?”
“First, she moved in,” Mason said. “Said she was there to help with the baby. But really, she was there to isolate Amy. She told her if she told Connor anything, she’d tell him she was abusing Freddy. She made Amy do all the work—cooking, cleaning, taking care of the baby twenty-four seven. Wouldn’t let her sleep, wouldn’t let her eat unless she earned it. She wanted to break her, so she wouldn’t fight back when we took the house.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
“The party last week? It was supposed to be a celebration. She’d stolen the deed from Connor’s safe a month before. We had a notary lined up, a guy I owed money to. He was gonna forge Connor’s signature Monday morning, put the house in my name. We were gonna list it for sale that afternoon. Split the four hundred grand three ways—Teresa, me, the notary. We were gonna be in Florida by the end of the week. Leave Amy and the baby with nothing. Not even a car seat.”
The courtroom was dead quiet.
I glanced at Amy.
She was staring at Mason, her face pale, but her eyes were dry. No tears. No fear. Just anger.
Mason kept talking.
“Teresa told all the relatives Amy was a drug addict. Said she was too messed up to take care of herself, let alone a baby. That’s why no one questioned why she was in the kitchen the whole party. They thought she was in trouble, that Teresa was being strict to help her. I went along with it because I owed twenty grand in gambling debts. I was scared. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He looked at me, then at Amy.
“I never would’ve hurt the baby,” he said. “I swear. I just wanted the money.”
Mom’s lawyer jumped up, screaming objections, but the judge waved him off.
Detective Rao testified next, laying out all the evidence—the texts, the bank statements, the forged POA, the deed, the medical records from the hospital. She was calm, precise, leaving no room for doubt.
By the time the hearing ended, the outcome was obvious.
The judge bound the case over for trial.
Mom was facing up to twenty years in prison.
We walked out of the courthouse into a warm fall afternoon.
Amy’s parents were waiting for us at the bottom of the steps, holding Freddy. They’d driven up from Memphis the week before, furious, ready to do whatever it took to help. Her mom grabbed Amy in a hug, crying, kissing her face. Her dad clapped me on the shoulder, his eyes wet.
“Proud of you, son,” he said.
Freddy reached for me, bouncing in his grandma’s arms, yelling “Dada! Dada!”
I took him, holding him tight, breathing in his baby smell.
He was healthy.
He was happy.
That was all that mattered.
That night, we ordered pizza, sat on the hotel floor, and watched Freddy crawl around chasing a balloon.
Amy leaned her head on my shoulder.
“Did you hear what Mason said?” she asked, her voice quiet. “She wanted to break me.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“She didn’t break you,” I said. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
She was quiet for a long time.
“I don’t feel strong,” she said. “I feel stupid. For letting her do that to me. For not telling you sooner.”
I turned her face to mine, forcing her to look at me.
“Hey,” I said. “This is not your fault. None of it. She was a master manipulator. She’d been doing it to me my whole life. You didn’t stand a chance alone. And you’re not alone anymore. Ever.”
She smiled, a real smile, the one that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Okay,” she said.
We went back to watching Freddy, laughing as he tripped over his own feet and face-planted into a pile of pillows.
He popped right back up, grinning like it was the best game in the world.
I looked at Amy, at my son, at her parents laughing in the corner.
May you like
We were going to be okay.
I knew it.
