Chapter 13 - The Day My Son Had to Choose
The next several days passed in a blur of legal meetings, documents, and difficult conversations.
Marisol pursued urgent court relief to protect my ownership while the disputed deed was examined.
The authorities continued investigating the suspected forgery and attempted financial transactions.
My title company assisted with records.
My financial institutions strengthened security around my accounts.
For the first time, I fully appreciated how many safeguards could be necessary when someone tried to misuse property documents.
But the most difficult part had nothing to do with paperwork.
It was waiting to see what Preston would do.
Richard wanted him to support the claim that I had agreed to transfer the villa.
Kendra wanted him to stop cooperating with my attorney.
And I wanted my son to tell the truth.
Not because I had raised him.
Not because he owed me loyalty.
Because truth was the only way he could begin becoming someone he might respect.
One afternoon, Preston called.
"Mom, I met with my own attorney."
"Good."
"He told me I need to be completely honest about everything."
"That's good advice."
Preston hesitated.
"Dad called me afterward."
I closed my eyes.
"What did he say?"
"That if I contradict him, he'll never help me financially again."
I felt an old familiar anger rise.
Richard was using money the way he always had.
As a reward for obedience.
As punishment for independence.
"What did you tell him?" I asked.
Preston took a breath.
"I told him I wasn't going to lie for him."
I sat very still.
For thirty-five years, my son had depended on his father's approval.
Hearing him say those words felt almost impossible.
"Preston..."
"Mom, I don't know what's going to happen to my company."
His voice cracked.
"I don't know whether Kendra and I can fix our marriage. And I don't know whether I'll ever make enough money to repay what I owe."
I swallowed.
"But I know I can't keep treating you the way Dad treated you."
Tears filled my eyes.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I said quietly.
"That's the first truly responsible thing you've said to me in a long time."
He laughed weakly.
"I guess that's something."
"It is."
A few days later, an important hearing took place concerning the disputed property transfer.
Richard arrived with his attorney.
Kendra sat beside him.
Preston entered separately with his own lawyer.
I sat beside Marisol.
The courtroom felt colder than I expected.
My hands rested on my grandmother's old leather handbag.
I had carried it for courage.
When the disputed documents were discussed, Richard's attorney argued that I had intended to give Preston the property and later changed my mind.
Marisol presented records showing the source of my purchase funds, evidence challenging the authenticity of the transfer, and information concerning the notarization.
Then Preston's attorney informed the court that his client wished to provide relevant testimony.
Richard turned sharply.
Kendra whispered something under her breath.
Preston took his place.
He looked frightened.
But when asked whether I had personally told him I was transferring my villa, he answered clearly.
"No."
The room became quiet.
Richard stared at him.
Preston continued.
"My father told me she had agreed. I wanted to believe him because I needed money."
He lowered his eyes.
"But my mother never gave me permission to take her house."
My heart pounded.
Then he admitted his own role in the attempted loan application and his knowledge of false claims about my mental capacity.
His attorney had explained the possible consequences of speaking.
Preston spoke anyway.
Richard's face reddened.
The judge listened carefully.
When Preston finished, the courtroom remained silent.
Then Richard's attorney requested a recess.
As everyone stood, Richard leaned toward Preston and whispered something that made my son turn pale.
I couldn't hear the words.
May you like
But moments later, Preston approached his attorney and said something I did hear.
"There's another document. Dad told me never to show anyone."
