And I did. That was the difference between being seventeen and being thirty-two. At seventeen, I had needed my mother to admit what she had done before I could fully believe myself. At thirty-two, I had sworn affidavits, financial records, archived footage, witness testimony, tax filings, and a federal indictment. Mother-in-lawgifts
The truth no longer required her permission.
Still, I went in.
The moment they saw me, the room shifted.
Linda sucked in a sharp breath. Her mouth opened and then shut again. Richard’s gaze moved over my navy suit, the badge clipped at my waist, and the calm expression I had trained myself to wear in courtrooms and funerals. Brooke looked down first. Mason did not. He stared at me with an irritated kind of disbelief, as if my survival had personally offended him.
“Erin,” Linda whispered.
“My legal name is Erin Voss,” I said, sitting in the chair across from them.
Her eyes filled immediately. She had always known how to cry when needed. As a child, I thought that meant she felt emotions deeply. Later, I learned some people used tears the way other people used keys.
“I thought you were dead,” she said.
“No, you didn’t.”
Richard’s attorney shifted in his seat. “My client is not here to be accused without—”
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