Chapter 6 - Patricia’s Other Game
Nothing about Patricia fit anymore.
The woman who had humiliated my daughters had also placed stolen assets under Sophia’s trust.
Protection?
Manipulation?
Both?
I refused to guess.
I confronted her.
Not at her house.
Not alone.
Evelyn arranged a meeting at our attorney’s office.
Patricia arrived in cream silk and pearls as if we were discussing charity donations.
“You embarrassed this family last night,” she said.
“You threw food at my children.”
“I corrected their expectations.”
“They’re five and eight.”
“They’re Vances.”
“No. They’re children.”
She showed no remorse.
I placed the Blue Ridge filing between us.
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
“Explain.”
“No.”
“Then I report the attempted transfer as theft.”
“Do it.”
That surprised me.
“Why is Sophia’s trust the owner?”
Patricia stared at me.
“Because Andrew cannot touch it.”
“You stole my certificates.”
“To prevent him from using them.”
“You expect gratitude?”
“I expect you to understand eventually.”
I almost laughed.
“You humiliated the same girls you claim to be protecting.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You think this is about whether I like girls?”
“You literally removed their food because they weren’t boys.”
“That was for Andrew.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He needed to believe I was still on his side.”
“By hurting my daughters?”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of the answer disgusted me.
Patricia believed ends justified anything.
That made her dangerous even when she claimed to be helping.
“Why are you hiding assets from your son?”
“Because Andrew owes people who don’t file lawsuits.”
Gambling syndicates.
Private lenders.
Men Patricia had apparently met.
“He owes far more than 5.4 million pesos,” she continued.
“How much?”
“Closer to nine million dollars.”
My stomach tightened.
Rebecca had found only part.
“Why hasn’t he told me?”
“Because his plan was to cover it with your company.”
“And yours?”
“To preserve whatever could be preserved for the family.”
“The family?”
Her eyes shifted toward my daughters.
“The next generation.”
I finally understood Patricia’s obsession.
Bloodline.
Inheritance.
Legacy.
It wasn’t merely sexism.
It was ownership.
She saw descendants as vessels carrying family assets.
Girls mattered when useful.
Boys mattered when symbolic.
Nobody mattered as a person.
“You’re not protecting Sophia.”
“I am.”
“You’re protecting Vance money.”
Patricia’s expression sharpened.
“Money Lauren built using a Vance name.”
There it was.
My company had Vance in the title because I rebranded after marriage.
Patricia had convinced herself that made it theirs.
I stood.
“This conversation is over.”
Then she said:
“Andrew is going to file for emergency custody.”
I stopped.
“He can try.”
“He already prepared it.”
She slid a document across the table.
Petition alleging emotional instability.
Parental alienation.
Financial concealment.
And a dangerous home environment.
My signature appeared on an attached psychiatric release.
Forged.
Again.
But something else caught my attention.
The proposed emergency guardian if Andrew became unavailable.
Not Patricia.
Not my father.
Malcolm Reeves.
I stared at the name.
“Why Malcolm?”
Patricia smiled bitterly.
“Now you’re finally asking the correct question.”
May you like
Then she leaned closer.
“Who do you think introduced Andrew to the gambling syndicate?”
