Chapter 7 - The Cracking Foundation
As the legal pressure tightened like a vise around Gerald, the toxic unity of the Hutchinson family began to splinter from within.
Without access to Gerald’s frozen bank accounts, the financial reality hit them hard. The construction business faltered because subcontractors weren't getting paid. Travis’s car dealership, which relied heavily on short-term loans from Gerald’s business trust, suddenly faced a massive liquidity crisis.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, my mother Patricia came to my house.
She didn't drive her usual sparkling luxury SUV—she arrived in a taxi, looking disheveled, her hair unstyled, wearing a coat that looked like it hadn't been ironed. The proud, polished matriarch who cared so deeply about appearances looked completely broken.
I opened the front door, standing firmly on the threshold. I did not invite her inside.
"Rebecca," Patricia wept, her hands trembling as she held a damp tissue. "Please... you have to stop this. They frozen everything. The bank came to the house today. Gerald can't pay Arthur Pendelton's legal fees. Travis is going to lose his dealership!"
"Hello, Mother," I said calmly, my arms crossed over my chest. "How are you doing?"
"How am I doing?!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "My family is being torn apart! The neighbors are whispering behind my back! People at the country club are looking at me like I'm a criminal!"
"You are a criminal, Patricia," I said sharply. "You stood in that kitchen, watched your three-year-old granddaughter bleed on the floor, and said she deserved it. You are an accessory to child abuse."
"I was trying to protect your father!" Patricia cried out defensively. "He has a temper, you know that! If I contradicted him, he would turn on me! I spent forty years keeping him calm, keeping this family together! I did what I had to do to survive!"
I felt a brief flicker of pity for her—a woman who had spent four decades as a prisoner of her husband's abuse, becoming a prison guard herself just to avoid being punished. But the pity vanished the moment I remembered Lily’s small body lying on that cold tile.
"You had a choice, Patricia," I told her, my voice dropping into a harsh, uncompromising register. "You could have protected your children. You could have protected your granddaughter. Instead, you chose to protect the man holding the belt. You made your choice for forty years. Now you have to live with the consequences."
"Rebecca, please!" she begged, reaching out to grasp my arm. "He’s an old man! If he goes to prison, he will die in there!"
"Then he shouldn't have committed a felony," I said, stepping back and beginning to close the door.
"You're a heartless monster!" Patricia screamed, her eyes wide with rage and desperation. "Family is supposed to forgive! God demands that you honor your father!"
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"God also says that whoever causes one of these little ones to stumble, it would be better for him to have a millstone tied around his neck and be thrown into the sea," I replied coldly. "Tell Gerald I’ll see him in court."
I shut the door, leaving her screaming on the porch in the rain.
