“But you just did.”
I took out my phone and called Marisol.
She answered on the second ring.
“Emily?”
“I’m at my parents’
house.
Cameron is here.”
There was a brief silence.
“Did he know you would be there?”
“He admitted he arranged it with them.
Lauren recorded him.”
“Do not argue with him.
Save the original recording in two places.
Photograph the room and the people present.
Write down the time.
Leave if you feel unsafe.”
Cameron stepped closer.
“You called your lawyer at your own birthday party?”
Marisol heard him.
“Is that his voice?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
I did.
Marisol’s voice came through clearly.
“Cameron, you are being notified that Emily considers tonight a deliberate violation of section nine of the settlement.
Do not approach her.
Do not follow her when she leaves.
All further communication must go through counsel.”
He gave a disbelieving laugh.
“You can’t notify me over a phone.”
“I just did.”
My father reached for the phone.
I moved it out of his reach.
“This is our home,” he said.
“We decide who attends.”
“You decide whom you invite,” Marisol replied.
“You do not decide the effect of Cameron’s signed agreement.”
My father stared at the phone as though it had insulted him personally.
My mother began to cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
She pressed two fingers beneath one eye to protect her mascara and whispered, “I cannot believe you’re doing this to us.”
That sentence almost broke my restraint.
To us.
She had invited the man who had forged my signature and hidden money from me.
She had handed him a bottle and a stage.
Yet I was doing something to her because I would not accept the humiliation quietly.
I put my phone away.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
My father scoffed.
“Of course you are.”
I turned toward him.
“No.
I’m leaving because my lawyer told me to.
Not because your joke worked.”
Lauren collected my handbag.
