Page 137 of Sins of the Father

“You can’t stay with him. We need to talk to the FBI, especially if he’s threatening you, Beth,” Jamison says.

“I can’t. I’ll go to jail.”

I tug at my hair. “If we get the FBI involved, you won’t go to jail. It’s not your fault—”

“My name is on some of the accounts,” she blurts out.

My skin goes cold. “What do you mean?”

“He...he funded them after the last election and told me it was for sticking by him all these years. I... I use all the accounts. My clothes and self-care, groceries...everything comes out of those accounts. He has me use all of them. He’ll take my debit cards and switch them out from time to time. When I questioned Maximillion about Giovanni Rossi on Sunday night, I told him I didn’t want to work for him anymore. I said I was leaving him, but...” She breaks down sobbing.

Jamison lets her cry on his shoulder, but I just watch her crumble, scared to move, in fear I might punch the wall near us.

When her tears slow, I firmly ask, “What did he say when you told him you were leaving him?”

She wipes her face with the tissue Jamison gives her. “He said I’ve been spending campaign money, and I’m the one who transferred the funds. But I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. I thought it was his personal money, not donations.”

“Beth, why does he want Steven to work for him?”

“I didn’t know on Friday when Steven told me. But now...” She closes her eyes in pain again.

“He wants to involve me somehow in case anyone ever questions him or you try to leave him.”

She nods. “I think so.”

“Another shining example of the sperm donor’s true colors,” I grumble.

“So you can’t work for him,” she adds.

“I’m not working for him.”

“Beth, we need to talk to the FBI,” Jamison reiterates.

“But, they’ll put me in jail.”

“No. We’ll get you an attorney and cut a deal for your immunity.”

“He’s involved in the mob,” she cries out. “There is no way out of this.”

“You can’t just continue to do his dirty work. We’re calling the FBI.”

“You should stay here with Quinn and me,” Jamison adds.

“I can’t. If I don’t show up for work or our date tonight, he’ll know something is up. Friday’s are our nights.”

Nausea spins in my gut, hearing my mother talk about their time together.

“Tell him Quinn got back early and needs help with Hope,” Jamison says. “Say I’m swamped with work and trying to catch up. I’ll find an attorney for you this weekend.”

My mother finally agrees. “Ok.” She stands. “I’ll go home and pack a bag.”

“Quinn and I will go with you.” Jamison leaves the room.

I rise. “Mom, you have to be done with him this time. You can’t stay in his web of lies and deceit any longer. If he’s willing to pin this shit on you, he doesn’t love you,” I adamantly state. In the process, I think I further shatter my mother’s heart.

Pain, like I’ve never seen, fills her face. She puts her hand over her lips, and a wail comes out of her mouth. The rage and anger I feel inside turns to sympathy, and I pull her into me.

“I’ve wasted my entire life on him,” she cries. “He’s never loved me, has he?”

---