My hand trembled, clutching the guardianship notice. Five years of unwavering care for Evelyn, meticulously managing her medications, handling every financial detail of this house—and now Brandon was accusing me of being mentally unfit.
“You can’t be serious,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. The betrayal was a fresh wound, deep and burning.
Brandon shrugged, pulling out a dining chair and sitting down as if we were discussing the weather. “I’m very serious, Mom. You’re behaving erratically. Questioning my motives. Making accusations.”
Julian stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Clara has records,” he stated, his voice quiet but firm. “Detailed medical logs for Evelyn, bank statements. Everything.”
“Those records prove she was isolated, Julian,” Brandon countered, his eyes flicking dismissively to his uncle. “You think a judge won’t see that a woman who spent five years locked away, talking to a sick old lady, might have lost her grip?”
The callousness of his words sent a chill through me. He was twisting my devotion into a weakness.
I crumpled the notice slightly in my hand. “I won’t back down, Brandon,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Not now, not ever.”
He simply gave a tight, humorless smile. “Then enjoy your court dates, Mom.”
He stood up, walked back to the kitchen, and started making himself a sandwich, acting as if the conversation hadn’t even happened. The smell of mustard and deli meat filled the air, a grotesque normal amidst the unfolding drama.
Julian lingered after Brandon took his sandwich to the living room, ostensibly to watch television.
“I need to keep an eye on his mail,” Julian murmured, his eyes fixed on the hallway. “This isn’t just about money, Clara. There’s something else.”
Two days later, Julian called me from his office. His voice was hushed, urgent.
“I intercepted a certified letter for Brandon,” he said. “It came from a private genetics lab in Seattle.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What was it?”
“A reminder,” Julian explained, “about a pending biological testing file. It requires a secondary parental reference sample to complete the analysis.”
A cold dread spread through me. A genetics lab? Paternity testing? Brandon had been gone for five years. Sierra was young. It clicked into place.
“He has a child,” I breathed, the words forming a terrible, impossible truth. “Sierra has a child.”
Julian was silent for a moment. “It seems highly likely, Clara.”
“And he’s trying to hide it,” I added, my mind racing. “He must be. He’s trying to establish some kind of claim to Evelyn’s estate through a fake family. That’s why he needs the house.”
A new surge of anger propelled me. This wasn’t about love or rescue. It was a calculated plan to defraud me, using a child as a pawn. I felt a renewed resolve. I would find out everything.
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