Chapter 3 - TEARING THE FAMILY APART
By noon, we had to tell my oldest son, David. Sarah called him to the hotel. When I showed him the bank statements and the forged documents, my strong, stoic son broke down and cried.
"Mom?" he kept whispering. "Mom did this?"
"We need to know where Eric stands," Sarah warned. My youngest son still lived at home with Martha.
David called him on speakerphone. "Eric, get out of the house. Mom and Aunt Brenda stole Dad's pension."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Look, Dave," Eric's voice came through, defensive and shaky. "Mom explained it to me. Dad's losing his mind. His memory is going. She just moved the money to a trust to protect it from him."
My blood boiled. Gaslighting. She was setting up a narrative that I had dementia.
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"Eric," I spoke into the phone, my voice cold as steel. "I don't have dementia. But I am going to have a ruthless lawyer. Choose your side right now."
Eric hung up. Martha had already bought him off.
