And this is an $80,000 transfer request that was still pending when I came home.”
The doctor didn’t touch the pages immediately.
His expression had gone from curiosity to alarm.
“Mrs.
Clara—”
“They’re twisting this,” Clara said.
“Margaret asked me to help with her finances.
She forgets things.
She told me to move the money.”
Mom laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Where was I moving eighty thousand dollars?”
Clara looked at her.
“You don’t remember.
That’s the problem.”
“Then tell us.”
Silence.
The doctor leaned back.
“Before anyone discusses financial capacity,” he said, “I need to speak with Margaret privately.”
Clara gripped the folder harder.
“I’m her caregiver.”
“You’re also the person being accused of coercing her.
You need to wait outside.”
“Liam can go too.”
“He will.”
That surprised Clara.
It didn’t surprise me.
I stood and touched Mom’s shoulder as I passed.
She squeezed my fingers once.
Outside the office, Clara followed me into the hallway.
The door had barely closed before she hissed, “What are you doing?”
I looked at her.
For the first time since I’d stepped out of the rideshare, she wasn’t performing for anyone.
Her face was tight.
Her breathing was shallow.
The loving-wife mask had vanished.
“You came home and believed everything she said?” Clara demanded.
“I believed what I saw.”
“Bruises? She bruises easily.”
“A locked door?”
“She wanders.”
“No phone?”
“She called people at all hours.”
“No medication tray?”
Clara hesitated.
I watched the pause happen.
“I managed her medication.”
“And the eighty thousand dollars?”
Her eyes hardened.
“We are married, Liam.
That house costs money.
Your mother lives there.
I gave up months taking care of her while you were gone.”
“So you paid yourself?”
“I deserved something.”
There it was.
