Chapter 12 - The Daughter My Mother Couldn't Stop Saving
December 17, 2026.
I hadn't spoken directly to Paige since she'd arrived at my apartment carrying Richard's threatening photograph.
Now she wanted to meet.
Rebecca suggested that I avoid discussing the disputed transactions without legal guidance.
Paige had apparently retained an attorney of her own.
Eventually, we agreed to a carefully arranged conversation at Rebecca's office, with counsel present and clear limits on what could be discussed.
I wasn't expecting an apology.
I'd stopped expecting apologies from my family years ago.
But I wanted to understand something.
Why had Paige spent her entire life accepting sacrifices she knew someone else was making?
She arrived wearing a plain gray sweater and black pants.
No designer handbag.
No expensive jewelry.
Without the elaborate clothes and confident smile she'd cultivated for years, she looked strangely unfamiliar.
She sat across from me.
“Hi, Jake.”
“Paige.”
For several moments, she stared at her hands.
Then she said, “I know you hate me.”
I shook my head.
“I don't hate you.”
She looked up.
“Really?”
“I'm angry. And I don't trust you. Those aren't the same thing.”
Her eyes filled.
“I don't know how to fix this.”
“Neither do I.”
She nodded.
Her attorney explained that Paige had begun cooperating with the inquiries into Richard's transactions and that some matters remained subject to legal advice.
Then Paige looked directly at me.
“I need to tell you something about Mom.”
I waited.
“She wasn't always like this.”
I almost laughed.
“Paige, she's favored you since we were children.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Paige rubbed her hands together.
“When I was little, I was sick a lot. You probably don't remember.”
I thought back.
There had been hospital appointments when Paige was seven or eight.
Tests.
Treatments.
Long afternoons when Mom stayed beside her bed.
Then Paige recovered.
I remembered very little because I was so young.
“Mom thought she was going to lose me,” Paige continued.
I nodded.
“And after I got better, she couldn't stand the idea of me struggling with anything.”
I looked at her.
“That explains some things. It doesn't excuse them.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever tell her to stop treating us differently?”
Paige laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I liked being the favorite.”
The honesty startled me.
She looked down.
“I liked getting things without earning them. I liked knowing somebody would fix my mistakes. And whenever I felt guilty, Mom told me you didn't need the same help.”
I thought of the scholarship application.
The forgotten graduation.
The wedding that had cost forty thousand dollars.
Paige continued.
“At first, I believed her.”
“And later?”
“Later, I knew better. But admitting it would have meant admitting how selfish I'd become.”
I sat back.
For the first time, Paige wasn't explaining why she deserved something.
She was explaining why she had taken it.
It was a small distinction.
But an important one.
“Did you know about Grandma's trust when we were teenagers?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“I knew she had set money aside for both of us.”
“Did you know mine was being used?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you find out?”
“After my business failed.”
I nodded slowly.
“That was what you said before.”
She swallowed.
“Richard told me he'd arranged a temporary loan secured against family investments. Later, I saw a document with your name on it.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid I'd have to repay the money.”
I stared at her.
She began crying.
“It's an ugly answer. But it's the truth.”
I looked away.
For years, Paige had accused other people of being cruel whenever they refused her something.
Now she was acknowledging the ugliness of her own choices.
I wanted that acknowledgment to make me feel better.
It didn't.
“Did you ever consider what the money could have meant to me?”
She wiped her eyes.
“Not enough.”
“That's the answer, isn't it?”
She nodded.
I leaned forward.
“Paige, you had a husband who loved you. You had a house. Our parents helped you constantly. Why wasn't that enough?”
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she whispered, “Because every time I got something, I became terrified of losing it.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“When Mom made me feel special, I thought it meant I was better than you. But whenever I failed at something, I felt like I was becoming worthless.”
Her voice cracked.
“So I needed more. More money. More attention. More proof that I mattered.”
“And Richard?”
“He told me I was extraordinary.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he had.
A woman raised to believe she deserved special treatment had encountered a man who used admiration as bait.
That didn't make her innocent.
But it explained how he'd gained influence.
Paige continued.
“Marcus loved me, but he expected me to be honest. He expected me to accept responsibility. I hated that because it made me feel like a disappointment.”
I thought of Marcus.
He'd stood beside her for eight years.
He'd paid bills, worked hard, and tried to build a stable marriage.
And she'd betrayed him for a man who promised there would never be consequences.
“Did you ever love Marcus?” I asked.
Paige's face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you cheat?”
“Because I wanted the excitement of feeling chosen without doing the work of being trustworthy.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Her answer was more honest than anything I'd heard from her in years.
Then she whispered, “I destroyed my marriage.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“And I hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“And Mom helped me do it.”
I met her eyes.
“She did.”
Paige covered her face.
We sat in silence.
Eventually, she looked up.
“Can you ever forgive me?”
I took a slow breath.
“I don't know.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
“No, Paige. I need you to really understand. Forgiveness isn't something you get because you finally admit what happened. Trust takes time. And some damage can't be undone.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“What can I do?”
“Tell the truth. Cooperate with the investigation. Repay what you can. And stop expecting other people to rescue you from consequences.”
She nodded again.
“I'll try.”
I looked at her.
“Trying isn't enough anymore.”
For the first time, she didn't argue.
After the meeting, Paige's attorney discussed her cooperation privately with Rebecca.
I waited in the hallway.
I was staring at a painting when Rebecca emerged.
Her expression was grave.
“Jake, Paige has provided information that may be important.”
“What information?”
“Records showing Richard repeatedly used the possibility of exposing your mother's conduct to pressure both of them for additional payments.”
I exhaled.
That matched what we'd suspected.
Rebecca continued.
“But there's something else.”
“What?”
“Paige says your mother kept copies of early documents that Richard doesn't have.”
I looked up.
“Where?”
“Your parents' house.”
I frowned.
“Dad already gave us several boxes.”
“These weren't in the filing cabinet.”
“Then where?”
Rebecca studied me.
“Paige says your mother kept them in a locked storage compartment beneath the stairs.”
I thought of my childhood home.
The narrow closet beside the basement door.
The place Mom had always forbidden us to enter.
“Why would she keep them?”
“Perhaps because she wanted evidence of what Richard had done. We don't know.”
I reached for my phone.
Rebecca raised a hand.
“Don't go searching the house yourself. We need the documents obtained and preserved properly.”
I nodded.
Then she added:
“Jake, Paige also says there's a recording.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Of what?”
“A conversation between your mother and Richard.”
“When?”
“September 2021.”
The same month Grandma Margaret had written her final warning.
I stared at Rebecca.
“What does the recording say?”
She hesitated.
“Paige hasn't heard all of it. But she remembers one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Rebecca's voice became very quiet.
“Your mother told Richard, 'If Jacob learns what we did, he'll never forgive me.'”
May you like
Then Rebecca paused.
“And Richard answered, 'That's why we're going to make sure he never finds out.'”
