“Dom, really,” she sighed, “we can handle it by ourselves. We just need five thousand to make sure—”
“Isaid‘send me the report’,” I cut through her. “I won’t give you anything until you show me proof.” If I gave any sign of weakness, she’d pounce.
Not even five fucking minutes with her, and I was acting like an angry kid. I used to try so hard not to be like her, to not rise to the bait, but she was like a disease that just kept coming back. It didn’t matter how I fought. There was always a piece of her that would never let me be free.
I could literally feel her calculating her next move down the line. “But we need a place to stay…” she trailed off.
“Then I’ll rent you an Airbnb. Send me the details first.” And I’d also contact whichever fake company she put on the report, and contact the council to check the investigator was a real person, and probably get Grace Fischer, my tech wizard and partner-in-crime, to do a thorough check just to make sure it was all legit.
“That will take too long. We’ve been told to leave by the end of the week.” Considering they owned the house, I doubted it.
“Mum, I have to be up early tomorrow for a case.”
She was silent except for her heavy breathing. It was kind of impressive how furious she could sound with one exhale. But calling her Mum stopped her, just for a second.
I knew what she was doing, but I wasn’t falling for it again. If I asked her what was wrong, she’d start sobbing, and then it would be even harder to put the phone down.
She took a shuddering breath. “I’ve called social services to come and take your sisters away,” she said so quietly that it didn’t match the pure shock that smashed into me.
The world went white as I fell back onto the couch, all the lightness in my body vanishing as the pillows absorbed my weight.
“What?” I croaked. My throat tight, heart frozen. I refused to show how easily she’d driven a knife into my chest.
Every word out of her mouth was a lie. I knew that. Even when she told me she loved me, there was an ulterior motive.
But this scared me more than her lies.
“It’s just until Terry and I get jobs and we have the money to take care of them again. They’ve agreed to put them into foster care until we’re stable enough to take them back.”
“You can’t be fucking serious.”
“We don’t have enough money, Dom. We can’t afford to raise two girls, not when Terry and I are so ill. They’ll be far better taken care of—”
“Shut up!” I hissed.
“Dom?” I could hear the little smile in her voice. She already knew she’d won.
“Shut the fuck up. How fucking dare you?”
“I can’t help it, darling. Life is just so difficult now. Everything is more expensive and we can’t afford to live like this.” She caught wind, the dramatics seeping into her fucking voice.
I shook, holding the phone so hard I thought it would break.
I couldn’t risk antagonising her. I knew she hadn’t called the services. She wouldn’t do that to her baby girls. But I couldn't be absolutely certain. And that was her leverage.
The first year I joined Harris, Walsh & Sons, they disappeared. I was finally earning enough that I opened savings accounts for the twins for when they turned eighteen. And the moment she heard about it, Sally asked for even more money. It was months of messages and phone calls, slowly wearing me down, and I refused every time.
And then she said they had been kidnapped. She straight up video called me and said right to my face that they had been taken, and the kidnappers were demanding cash payments.
Of course, it was bullshit. Of course she was lying. She was a fucking con artist. It was what she did. There was no chance anyone would kidnap two nine-year-olds because they thought Sally had cash.
But it didn’t stop me from being a terrified mess for two days. Because there was always the ‘what if’ hanging over me. What if they had been kidnapped? What if they were asking for money? What if I never saw my sisters again?
It was only through Grace scouring endless hours of CCTV footage from Newcastle Airport that she found out that they were on holiday with their friend’s family. And Sally made themleave their phones, so I finally contacted them through their friend's Facebook profile.
Cat wanted to report her, but there were too many variables to risk it.
Which was why we ended up with the bank account system.
