Chapter 7
Trevor showed up at Paul’s house alone at seven the next night.
He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, unshaven, clothes rumpled. He’d been fighting with Madison for forty-eight hours straight, Paul had told us. She’d been cycling between tears and rages, accusing him of not trusting her, of siding with her father, of still being “his mother’s little boy.”
It was working. The cracks were spreading.
Catherine and I were in the next room when he arrived. We’d driven over separately, parked down the street, slipped in through the back door while Paul answered the front. We could hear everything through the cracked door.
“Thanks for coming, son,” Paul said.
“Is she here?” Trevor asked. His voice was tight.
“Madison? No. Just us. Men talking.”
“Good.” Trevor sighed. “Because honestly? I don’t know how much more of this I can take. One minute she’s screaming that I don’t love her, the next she’s on her knees crying that she’s sorry. I don’t know which one is real anymore.”
“Sit down,” Paul said. “I’ve got something you need to hear. And before you say anything— I want you to know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was the only way to save you.”
A chair scraped.
Paul hit play.
The recording filled the room.
Elaine’s voice. Screaming about the divorce. About the forty percent. Then the worst of it: Two years of coaching. You humiliated his mother instead of playing nice. If he doesn’t choose you, drain him dry and leave. Love is for poor people.
When it ended, the silence was absolute.
Then Trevor made a sound.
Half gasp. Half sob. A sound like something vital tearing loose inside his chest.
“No,” he whispered. “No. That’s not… she wouldn’t. She loves me. She told me—”
“Trevor,” Paul said, very gentle. “I was there. I heard every word. That was my wife on the phone. That was your wife answering her. I’ve watched them do this for twenty-five years. First to me. Then to Tyler. Now to you. They don’t love people, Trevor. They use them. And you were the biggest score of Madison’s life.”
“Stop it.” Trevor’s voice rose. Panicked. “You’re lying. You’re all lying! My parents put you up to this! They hate her! They’ve always hated her!”
“Your parents don’t hate her,” Paul said. “They’re here.”
The door opened.
Catherine and I walked into the room.
Trevor stood up so fast his chair fell over backward. He stared at us like we were ghosts. His face was streaked with tears, his whole body shaking.
“Dad?” he said. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
Catherine didn’t move. She just looked at her son. Really looked at him. At the man he’d become under Madison’s influence. At the boy she still loved underneath it all.
“We’re here because we love you,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake. It never would again. “Even after everything. Even after the wedding. Even after you chose her over us. We’re still your parents, Trevor. And we’re not going to let her destroy you.”
“Destroy me?” Trevor laughed. It was a wild, broken sound. “You already destroyed me! You walked out of my wedding! You humiliated me in front of everyone! And now you’re here with my father-in-law playing me recordings of my wife having a bad day on the phone? That’s not love! That’s a campaign!”
“A bad day?” I stepped forward. “Trevor, listen to yourself. She admitted she planned to push your mother. She admitted she’s been stealing from you. Her own mother said she’s been coaching her for two years to take everything we have. How much more do you need?”
“I need her to tell me it’s not true!” Trevor shouted. “I need to look her in the eye and have her tell me this is all a big mistake! Because if it’s true… if any of it is true… then the last two years of my life have been a lie. Then I married a stranger. Then I threw away my whole family for nothing. And I can’t live with that. I can’t.”
He collapsed onto the couch, head in his hands, and wept.
Catherine sat down next to him. She didn’t touch him. She didn’t wrap her arms around him. She just sat there, close enough that he could feel her there, and let him cry it out.
“I know it hurts, baby,” she said softly. “I know it feels like the world is ending. But it’s not. It’s just beginning. The hard part is over now. The truth is out. All you have to do is choose.”
Trevor looked up at her. His eyes were raw.
“Choose what?”
“Choose us,” she said. “Choose the family that loves you for who you are, not for what we have. Choose the life you had before she came along and turned everything upside down. Or choose her. We won’t stop you. But if you choose her… you have to know what you’re choosing. A woman who doesn’t love you. A woman who sees you as a bank account. A woman who will leave you with nothing the second something better comes along.”
She paused.
“The choice is yours, Trevor. It always has been.”
Trevor sat there for a long time. Staring at the floor. We didn’t say a word. Paul poured him a glass of water. Set it on the table in front of him. Waited.
Finally, Trevor reached into his pocket.
He pulled out his phone.
He found Madison’s name. Hit call.
Put it on speaker.
She answered on the first ring. Sobbing.
“Baby!” she wailed. “Where are you? I’ve been so worried! I’ve been calling for hours! I’m so sorry about the fight! I didn’t mean any of it! I love you so much—”
“Madison,” Trevor said. His voice was hoarse, but steady. “I heard the recording.”
The line went dead silent.
Then her voice changed. The sobbing cut off like a switch had been flipped. In its place was something cold. Hard. Ugly. The voice we’d heard on the tape. The real Madison.
“Who told you?” she said.
“Your father,” Trevor said. “And my parents. They’re all here. I heard everything. The wedding. The money. The plan to leave me in six months with nothing. Was any of it real, Madison? Any of the last two years? Did you ever love me at all?”
She laughed. A sharp, bitter sound.
“Love?” she said. “Oh, Trevor. You really are as stupid as my mother said you were. Of course I didn’t love you. I loved your father’s company. I loved your mother’s money. I loved the big house we were supposed to get. But you? You were just the key to the front door. And then you went and let your parents ruin everything by walking out of the wedding. You were supposed to be mine completely. You were supposed to choose me over them. And you almost did. Almost.”
Trevor closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
“All those times you cried,” he whispered. “All those times you told me my family hated you, that I was the only thing you had…”
“Acting,” she said, dismissive. “I’ve been acting since I was twelve. My mother taught me well. Men fall for tears, Trevor. Every single time. You fell for it. Your father fell for it with my mother. We’re two generations of winners, and you’re just another loser who couldn’t see it coming.”
She paused.
“Enjoy the divorce, Trevor. I’m taking the condo. I’m taking the cars. And I’m taking every penny I can get my hands on. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
The line went dead.
Trevor dropped the phone. It clattered on the coffee table.
He sat there for a long time. Not moving. Not speaking.
Then he turned to Catherine.
And he fell into her arms.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, over and over. “Mom, I’m so sorry. Dad, I’m sorry. I was so stupid. I was so blind. Please forgive me. Please.”
May you like
Catherine held him. Rocked him like he was five years old again, like he’d just fallen off his bike and scraped his knee. She looked up at me over his shoulder. Her eyes were wet, but she was smiling.
“We’ve got you, baby,” she whispered. “We’ve got you. You’re home now.”
