Chapter 7: Diane Makes Her Last Move
She called Ryan the next morning at seven forty-three.
I know the time because I was awake.
I had been awake since five.
I heard his phone from the other room, heard him answer it, heard his voice drop to something low and careful.
I got up.
I stood in the hallway outside the bedroom door.
"Mom, I can't—" A pause.
"No.
Listen to me." Another pause, longer.
"That's not — Mom, that's not going to work."
I pushed the door open.
Ryan looked at me.
He didn't hang up.
"She's right here," he said into the phone.
"Do you want me to put you on speaker?"
Silence on the other end.
Then Diane's voice came through, thin and sharp even at low volume: "Don't you dare."
Ryan looked at me.
I nodded.
He put the phone on speaker and set it on the nightstand.
"Diane," I said.
A long pause.
"This is a private conversation."
"You planned what happened in that house.
You filed a false report with child services.
You put my baby at risk." I kept my voice even.
"There is no private conversation anymore."
"I was protecting my son." Her voice had shifted — harder now, the softness gone.
"You came into this family and started pulling him away from everything that mattered.
The business, the estate, his responsibilities—"
"His responsibility is to his wife and his child."
"His responsibility is to this family.
To what his father built.
You were never part of that.
You were never going to be part of that."
"The courts are going to disagree with you."
A pause.
Then her tone changed again — quieter, more controlled.
More dangerous.
"I want to offer you something," she said.
"A settlement.
Private.
No court, no charges, no trial.
A number that would let you start over somewhere else.
Raise that child comfortably.
Without all of this."
Ryan's jaw tightened.
"And in return?" I asked.
"You drop the complaint with the police.
You sign a document releasing any claim on the estate.
And you and Ryan agree to a quiet separation."
"You want me to take money to disappear."
"I want this to end cleanly.
For everyone."
"Including you."
She didn't answer that.
"Diane," I said.
"The recording already exists.
The emails already exist.
The DCFS filing already exists.
Detective Reyes already has copies of all of it.
There is no settlement that makes any of that go away."
"Lawyers can—"
"No." Ryan's voice.
Flat.
Final.
"Mom.
Stop."
Silence.
"Ryan—"
"I said stop." He picked up the phone.
Took it off speaker.
Held it to his ear.
"I'm going to say this once.
I'm cooperating with the investigation.
I've already spoken to Dad's lawyer.
I'm going to do what I should have done the night it happened." A pause.
"Don't call me again until you've spoken to your attorney."
He ended the call.
He set the phone down on the nightstand.
The room was very quiet.
"She's going to try something else," I said.
"I know."
"She's going to call someone.
Try to get ahead of it.
Talk to the DCFS investigator, maybe.
Or go to the press."
"I know." He turned to look at me.
"I already called Detective Reyes this morning.
Before Mom called.
I told her I wanted to make a formal statement." He paused.
"I told her everything."
I studied his face.
"Everything?" I said.
"Everything I knew.
Everything Mom told me.
Every conversation." He looked at his hands.
"It won't undo what happened.
I know that.
But it's what I have."
I didn't tell him it was enough.
It wasn't enough.
But it was real, and real was something to work with.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
A text from Detective Reyes.
*Diane Callahan brought in for formal questioning this morning.
Wanted you to know before you heard it elsewhere.*
I read it twice.
May you like
Set the phone down.
"It's started," I said.
