Chapter 3: What the Second Page Said
I stood up from the table.
"What is that?" I pointed at the counter.
Elaine didn't move to hide it.
She walked over, picked it up, and set it in front of me the same way she had set down the first one.
Flat.
Deliberate.
Like she had been waiting for me to notice it.
It was a letter.
Typed, not handwritten.
At the top, in bold: *Notice of Intent to Restrict Contact.*
I read the first paragraph.
Then I stopped.
"This is a legal document."
"It's a draft," Elaine said.
"It becomes final if you refuse to sign the rules."
"You're threatening me with a court filing."
"I'm giving you a choice."
Marcus was still standing near the door.
He hadn't moved since he came in.
I turned to look at him directly.
"Marcus.
Look at me."
He did.
His jaw was tight.
"Did you know about this letter?"
A long pause.
"Mom—"
"Yes or no."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The word landed like something falling off a shelf.
I heard it.
I felt it.
But I didn't let myself react.
Not yet.
I looked back at the letter.
The document claimed I had, on multiple occasions, caused the expectant mother emotional distress through unsolicited advice, boundary violations, and repeated pressure regarding religious and lifestyle choices.
It listed dates.
It listed specific incidents.
Some of them had never happened.
"This is fabricated," I said.
"That's your opinion," Elaine said.
"The date listed here — October fourteenth — I was in Ohio visiting my sister.
I wasn't even in the state."
Elaine's expression didn't change.
"Dates can be verified in court."
"Then let's verify them," I said.
"Because I have receipts, hotel records, and my sister's word."
For the first time, something shifted in her face.
Just slightly.
A tightening around the eyes.
Marcus stepped forward.
"Mom, please.
Don't make this into a fight.
Just sign the rules and the letter goes away.
That's all Elaine is asking."
"She's asking me to sign away my right to be called a grandmother.
And she's threatening me with a false legal document if I don't." I kept my voice level.
"That's not a request, Marcus.
That's coercion."
"You're being dramatic."
"Am I?" I picked up the draft letter and held it up.
"Does your father know about this?"
Marcus and Elaine exchanged a look.
Fast.
Involuntary.
That look told me everything.
"He doesn't," I said.
"Does he."
Marcus looked at the floor.
I set the letter down.
I picked up my handbag from the chair.
I took the flowers I had brought — still in their paper wrapping, still on the counter where I had set them when I arrived — and I left them there.
I left the strawberry cake too.
"I'm not signing anything today," I said.
"And I think you both know why."
I walked to the door.
Marcus didn't stop me.
Elaine didn't speak.
I drove three blocks before I pulled over and sat with my hands on the wheel.
My phone lit up on the passenger seat.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*She's done this before.
May you like
To someone else.
Call me.*
