Chapter 10 - THE LAWYER IN THE MIDDLE
Amy stared at me.
“That’s impossible.”
Detective Ortiz repeated the attorney’s name.
Daniel Mercer.
Amy had met him once.
A thirty-minute consultation.
She had found his office through an online search.
Or at least she thought she had.
Ortiz asked.
“How did you locate him?”
Amy opened her phone.
“I searched for divorce lawyers near me.”
“Do you remember which website?”
“No.”
“Did anyone recommend him?”
Amy hesitated.
Then her face changed.
“Teresa.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
“She sent me an article.”
“When?”
“The day before I searched.”
“What article?”
Amy scrolled through old messages.
Eventually, she found it.
The link appeared to be a blog post about understanding parental rights during separation.
At the bottom was an advertisement for Mercer Family Law.
Amy had clicked it.
She thought she had discovered the lawyer independently.
Instead, Teresa had guided her there without explicitly recommending anyone.
Ortiz asked.
“What did Mercer tell you?”
Amy concentrated.
“That leaving the marital home could hurt me.”
Reasonable advice.
“That Connor’s family might seek emergency orders if they had evidence of instability.”
Less ordinary.
“That I should avoid confronting Teresa.”
Strange.
“That it might be better to wait until I had a financial plan.”
Still plausible.
Then Amy remembered the question that now sounded completely different.
“He asked whether our house had equity.”
I stared at her.
“A divorce lawyer asked that.”
“Yes.”
“That can be relevant in divorce.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“He asked whether you owned a business.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you owned part of an engineering firm.”
“Did you say how much?”
“No.”
“Did he ask?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
Ortiz was quiet.
“I need his full name and office address.”
Amy provided both.
Within hours, we discovered something important.
Daniel Mercer had previously worked with Charles Vance.
Not as partners.
But on several financial restructurings involving divorcing couples.
That did not prove wrongdoing.
Professionals worked with other professionals.
But then Detective Ortiz obtained an email from Mason’s account.
Subject line.
AMY CONSULT.
The message had been sent to Vance the morning after Amy’s meeting.
Mason wrote.
Mercer says she is scared enough to consider leaving but not ready.
I felt something inside me break.
A consultation Amy believed was confidential had somehow become intelligence for the people manipulating our marriage.
Ortiz warned us not to jump ahead.
Investigators still needed to determine who had disclosed what.
But Amy knew details from that meeting appeared nowhere else.
She had told Mercer she feared I would choose Teresa.
She had told him she had considered returning to Kentucky.
She had told him she worried Teresa might try for custody.
Weeks later, Teresa had begun using those exact fears against her.
“You think the lawyer told them?”
Amy whispered.
“I think someone did.”
Detective Ortiz contacted the appropriate authorities.
Melissa advised us not to discuss the details publicly.
But for me, the emotional damage was immediate.
Amy had tried to seek help privately.
Even that had been infiltrated.
That evening, she stood on the townhouse balcony for almost an hour.
I joined her.
“I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
“You don’t have to trust everybody.”
“I trusted your mother because you trusted her.”
I said nothing.
“I trusted a lawyer because lawyers are supposed to be private.”
I nodded.
“I trusted relatives because they smiled at me.”
Another silence.
“Then twenty people watched me scrub dishes while holding a sick child.”
I leaned against the railing.
“Why didn’t anyone help?”
Amy looked at me.
“That’s the part I keep asking myself.”
Not everyone at the party participated directly.
Some relatives probably did not understand the situation.
Some thought Amy volunteered.
Some assumed Teresa had permission.
But several knew.
Betsy knew.
Mason knew.
Vance knew.
And some simply watched because challenging Teresa was uncomfortable.
That mattered too.
The next morning, one person finally came forward.
My cousin Emily.
She was twenty-two.
A nursing student.
She had attended the birthday for less than an hour.
She called Amy directly.
“I’m sorry.”
Amy put the call on speaker.
Emily was crying.
“I should have done something.”
Amy answered quietly.
“What did you see?”
“I saw Frederick.”
“What about him?”
“He looked sick.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“I told Teresa.”
My jaw tightened.
“What did she say?”
Emily hesitated.
“She said you were exaggerating.”
Amy closed her eyes.
“What else?”
“I offered to hold him.”
“And?”
“She told me not to interfere.”
Emily continued.
“I saw Aunt Betsy standing near the stairs when you tried to go up.”
Amy’s breathing changed.
“What did she do?”
“She stepped in front of you.”
“What did she say?”
Emily repeated it.
“Cake first.”
Amy looked at me.
Exactly what she remembered.
Emily had witnessed it.
Then she added something we had not known.
“After Connor arrived, Teresa told me to delete my videos.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“What videos?”
“I recorded Frederick blowing out the candle.”
“Do you still have them?”
“Yes.”
My heart accelerated.
“Send everything to Detective Ortiz.”
Emily did.
The first video showed relatives singing.
Teresa held Frederick.
He looked miserable.
Amy stood in the background carrying a coffee pot.
The second video began accidentally while Emily lowered her phone.
The camera pointed toward the patio floor.
But the audio was clear.
Charles Vance’s voice.
“We need the originals before tonight.”
Mason responded.
“She signed most of it.”
Vance asked.
“What about guardianship?”
Mason answered.
“Teresa is handling her.”
Then another voice.
Betsy.
“What if Connor comes early?”
Vance laughed.
“He never does.”
My skin crawled.
The conversation continued.
Teresa approached.
“Stop worrying.”
Then came the sentence that ended any remaining doubt about the birthday party.
My mother said.
“By the time Connor gets home, Amy will have signed herself out of this family.”
The video ended.
Amy stared at the phone.
“So that was the plan.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Not just the house.”
She swallowed.
“Me.”
She was right.
The house was valuable.
The business was valuable.
But the obstacle Teresa hated most had always been Amy.
Because Amy represented something my mother could not tolerate.
A family where Teresa was no longer the center.
That afternoon, Detective Ortiz called with an update about Daniel Mercer.
His attorney had contacted investigators.
Mercer denied sharing privileged information.
He claimed he did not know Teresa.
He claimed his prior work with Vance was unrelated.
He claimed the email mentioning “Mercer” referred to someone else.
Then investigators checked security footage from Vance’s office building.
Three days after Amy’s consultation, Daniel Mercer walked into Charles Vance’s office.
He stayed fifty-two minutes.
May you like
When he left, Teresa Bradley walked out behind him.
*
