Chapter 12 - A Late-Night Call
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The Center operated quietly but efficiently.
Audrey remained on the board, but stepped back from daily operations to focus on her architecture firm.
I officially retired, handing over the maintenance of the building to a trusted contractor.
Life found a comfortable, mundane rhythm.
Then, the phone rang.
It was 2:15 AM.
My body remembered the drill before my brain did.
Heart rate spiked. Breathing slowed.
I answered on the first ring.
“Yes?”
“Dad.”
It wasn't Audrey.
It was a voice I hadn't heard in five years.
“David?”
My son.
My estranged, fiercely independent son who had moved to the West Coast and systematically cut ties with the family after his mother died.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
“I am now.”
“I need help.”
The last time he asked for help, he was seventeen and had wrapped his car around a telephone pole.
“Where are you?”
“Seattle. But I’m not... I can't stay here.”
His voice was tight. Strained.
“What happened?”
A long pause.
“It’s Sarah.”
His wife.
I had met her twice. She was charming, successful, and ran a venture capital firm.
“What about her?”
“She... she took the kids.”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“Took them where?”
“I don't know. She served me with papers today. Ex parte orders. Claimed I was a flight risk. Claimed I was unstable.”
It sounded terrifyingly familiar.
“Are you unstable, David?”
“No! Dad, I swear. She’s been moving money. She’s been setting this up for months. I confronted her yesterday, and today I’m locked out of my house, my accounts are frozen, and I can't find my children.”
The playbook.
The same damn playbook.
“I’m coming,” I said.
“Dad, you don't have to—”
“I’m getting on the first flight.”
I hung up.
I hadn't spoken to my son in half a decade.
May you like
But the rules hadn't changed.
If they call, you go.
