Please look under my coat before she sees you!
The revelation about the State Board of Elections server intensified our efforts. Kowalski worked tirelessly, fueled by coffee and a quiet anger, fine-tuning the bypass module. Rachel was digging deeper into the Board’s internal network, trying to find anomalies related to the rogue IP address. We were a small, beleaguered team, fighting a phantom.
Then, another legal blow landed, this one more personal, more devastating than anything Delaney had thrown at me yet.
A process server, looking almost apologetic, handed me a thick envelope at my garage door. Another court summons.
My hands trembled as I opened it. It was for the ongoing civil suit, Evelyn Albright-Hollister v. Lucas Hollister. But this one included something new.
A sworn affidavit. Signed by Sarah’s parents. *My in-laws.*
The words blurred: “Lucas has shown increasingly erratic and paranoid behavior… since Sarah’s tragic death… clearly suffering from a severe mental breakdown… in no condition to care for a child… supporting the Lieutenant Governor’s temporary restraining order for the safety of Maya Hollister…”
My vision swam. George and Eleanor. Sarah’s mother and father. The people who had been a second family to me. Who had cried with me at Sarah’s funeral, who had shared my quiet grief.
They were siding with Evelyn.
“They wouldn’t,” I whispered, the paper crinkling in my hand. “They wouldn’t believe her.”
Kowalski, hearing my distress, came over. He took the paper from me, his face a mask of concern as he read it.
“Oh, Lucas,” he said, his voice soft. “Delaney’s good. He knows how to isolate you.”
It was a tactic, of course. Cut off my support, both financial and emotional. Make me appear unstable, vindictive, not just to the courts but to anyone who might listen.
But it wasn’t just a tactic. It was a betrayal.
I remembered the last time I’d spoken to George. He’d called, his voice strained, asking about my “mood swings,” suggesting I seek “professional help.” I’d dismissed it as Evelyn’s whispers, but now I saw the full extent of her poisoned influence.
She had convinced them I was unhinged, that my desperate attempts to rescue Maya were merely the ravings of a man broken by grief. She had used Sarah’s death, the very thing that fueled my resolve, as evidence of my unfitness.
“They blame me,” I said, the words heavy with a crushing realization. “For Sarah’s death. They always did, deep down.”
A memory surfaced: George, at the funeral, his hand on my shoulder, his eyes distant. “You should have kept her safe, Lucas.”
He hadn’t meant it as an accusation then. It was grief speaking. But Evelyn had seized on that raw emotion, twisted it, and weaponized it.
Now, with this affidavit, my in-laws had publicly cut all ties. The last vestiges of family support, of shared memory of Sarah, were gone. I was truly isolated, not just legally but personally.
The silence in the garage suddenly felt vast, suffocating. Evelyn wasn’t just threatening my freedom; she was dismantling my entire world, brick by painful brick.
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