CHAPTER 5 — THE LITTLE BOY WHO ALMOST DISAPPEARED
Sarah collapsed into the nearest chair.
"What did you say?"
Harold's voice remained calm.
"Two years ago, someone purchased a two-million-dollar life insurance policy covering Jamie."
My vision blurred.
"Who?"
He slowly turned another page.
"The beneficiary..."
"...is Gertrude Foster."
The room exploded.
Guests gasped.
Someone whispered,
"My God..."
Mother lunged toward Harold.
"That's enough!"
Security from the party instinctively stepped between them.
I couldn't hear anything anymore.
Only one sentence echoed inside my head.
A life insurance policy...
on my little boy.
I looked down at Jamie.
He was quietly holding the toy truck I had just given him.
Completely unaware that someone had placed a price on his life.
I knelt beside him.
"When was the last time Grandma hugged you?"
Jamie thought carefully.
"I don't remember."
"Did she ever tell you she loved you?"
He slowly shook his head.
"No."
"She says I'm expensive."
Sarah burst into tears.
The guests looked horrified.
Jamie continued innocently.
"Grandma says Daddy sends money because Mom and I eat too much."
Every word landed like a knife.
Then he added something else.
"One day Aunt Prudence said..."
He stopped.
Sarah immediately covered his mouth.
"Jamie..."
"It's okay."
He looked at me.
"Aunt Prudence said if Mommy disappeared..."
"...Grandma could finally rent my room."
The ballroom became deathly quiet.
Mother screamed.
"He's making it up!"
But then—
An elderly maid stepped forward.
She had worked for our family for nearly twenty years.
Everyone knew her as Mrs. Eleanor.
She removed her apron with trembling hands.
"I can't stay silent anymore."
Mother's face turned white.
"Eleanor..."
"Don't."
The old woman ignored her.
She looked directly at me.
"I saw everything."
Every eye turned toward her.
"They locked Sarah and Jamie behind the kitchen six months after you left."
"They took away her phone."
"They opened every package you mailed."
"They sold most of the gifts."
"The gold bracelet?"
She pointed toward Prudence.
"She wears it every weekend."
"The designer handbags?"
She pointed upstairs.
"Three closets full."
"The toys?"
She looked at Jamie.
"They donated them for tax deductions before your son ever saw them."
Jamie's tiny shoulders dropped.
"You mean..."
"...Daddy really bought me toys?"
Sarah hugged him tightly.
"Yes, sweetheart."
"He always did."
Jamie began crying.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just silent little tears.
Because for five years...
he had believed his father had forgotten him.
And that lie...
broke something inside me forever.
Then another voice echoed from the entrance.
"Police!"
The ballroom turned.
Four detectives walked inside.
Leading them...
was a woman wearing a navy blazer.
She looked directly at Harold.
"We've been waiting for confirmation."
Then she looked at my mother.
"Gertrude Foster..."
"You're under investigation for financial fraud, identity theft, elder abuse..."
She paused.
"...and suspected attempted homicide."
The room froze.
Attempted homicide?
I stared at the detective.
"What does that mean?"
She slowly looked toward Sarah.
May you like
"It means..."
"...someone has already tried to kill your wife."
