Chapter 7 - Brooke Breaks FirstBrooke broke before Diane did.
It happened at a deposition.
Maren scheduled Brooke’s first, which surprised me. I expected Diane first. The queen before the court. The woman who had ruled every room.
But Maren chose Brooke.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Diane believes silence is loyalty. Brooke believes attention is oxygen. Deprive her of approval long enough, and she’ll talk just to hear herself matter.”
Brooke arrived wearing a black blazer, tearful dignity, and too much perfume.
Her attorney sat beside her looking already tired.
Maren began gently.
The birthday dinner.
The livestream.
The family group chat.
Brooke answered carefully at first.
“I don’t remember.”
“I was upset.”
“It happened fast.”
“Emily has always been aggressive.”
Maren let her lie for forty minutes.
Then she placed a printed screenshot in front of her.
“Is this your post?”
Brooke looked down.
Her face changed.
The screenshot showed Brooke’s comment under Diane’s old holiday photo.
Mom still has the fastest slap in the Midwest 😂
“I was joking,” Brooke said.
“About your mother slapping people?”
“It’s an expression.”
“Who did she slap?”
“No one. It was a joke.”
Maren placed another page down.
A group chat message from Brooke to Jason two years earlier.
Mom smacked me so hard over the centerpiece thing I saw stars lol. Don’t tell Emily, she’ll make it abuse.
Brooke stopped breathing correctly.
Her attorney leaned close and whispered.
Maren waited.
“Was that a joke too?” she asked.
Brooke’s eyes filled.
“Families say things.”
“Did Diane strike you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember seeing stars?”
Brooke’s lower lip trembled.
“That’s just how Mom is.”
There it was.
The family anthem.
Maren’s voice stayed even.
“How is Mom?”
Brooke looked toward her attorney.
He said nothing.
“Brooke,” Maren said, “your mother struck a two-year-old child on video. You then hid the livestream and publicly accused that child’s mother of lying. I’m giving you an opportunity to tell the truth before I ask the court to compel the platform records.”
Brooke blinked.
“Platform records?”
“Yes.”
The phrase did what morality had not.
It frightened her.
Brooke’s hands twisted in her lap.
“I didn’t save the live.”
“But was it saved automatically?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you delete it?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Emily attacked Jason.”
“Before or after your mother struck Lily?”
Brooke’s face collapsed.
“After.”
“And why did you not help Lily?”
Brooke began crying.
This time, I thought the tears might be real.
“Because Mom was already mad,” she whispered.
Maren did not move.
“What happens when Mom is mad?”
Brooke covered her mouth.
Her attorney requested a break.
Maren granted five minutes.
Brooke returned paler.
The deposition resumed.
Question by question, Diane’s perfect daughter unraveled.
Yes, Diane had a temper.
Yes, Diane had slapped Jason as a child.
Yes, Diane had slapped Brooke too.
Yes, Diane had grabbed Lily’s wrist hard enough to make her cry the previous Christmas.
Yes, Brooke had seen Diane corner me in the kitchen and call me “a breeder with no backbone.”
Yes, Jason usually did nothing.
Then came the question that changed everything.
“Did your mother ever instruct you to record Emily during family gatherings?”
Brooke froze.
Her attorney objected.
Maren rephrased.
“Did Diane ask you to capture videos that made Emily look unstable?”
Brooke looked down.
“Yes.”
My whole body went cold.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than five?”
“Yes.”
“More than ten?”
Brooke cried harder.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom said Jason needed proof for when Emily eventually tried to take Lily.”
Maren leaned forward slightly.
“When did your mother say that?”
Brooke whispered, “Before Lily was born.”
The room shifted.
Before Lily was born.
Before the spilled soup.
Before the handprint.
Before my escape bag.
Diane had been building a case against me while I was still decorating a nursery.
Afterward, I sat in Maren’s office staring at the deposition notes.
“She planned this,” I said.
Maren nodded. “She prepared for possession.”
“Of Jason?”
“Of everyone.”
I thought of all the times Diane had smiled at my pregnant belly and called Lily “our baby.”
Not my grandbaby.
Our baby.
That evening, Brooke called Jason.
He later forwarded Maren the voicemail.
She was sobbing.
“Jason, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Mom would use all of it. I thought we were protecting you. I thought Emily was going to ruin the family. Mom said if we didn’t stay together, everything Dad built would fall apart.”
Jason sent the voicemail with only one sentence.
Dad didn’t build anything. Mom just made us afraid to leave.
Diane found out about Brooke’s deposition by morning.
At 6:03 a.m., she sent a family-wide text.
Brooke is unwell and has been manipulated. Do not speak to attorneys without me present.
Margaret forwarded it to Maren.
So did Uncle Martin.
So did Brooke’s cousin Alyssa.
The wall was cracking.
Not because they loved me.
Because Diane had made one mistake tyrants always make.
She had frightened everyone for so long that the first person to survive disobedience became proof.
Proof that Diane could be crossed.
Proof that the sky would not fall.
Proof that maybe, after thirty years, the queen at the head of the table was only an old woman with a loud voice and too many secrets.
But Diane still had one weapon left.
Money.
And on Friday, she used it.
Jason’s bank account was frozen.
Our joint credit card was declined.
And the hotel called my room to tell me payment for the next week had been reversed.
May you like
Diane had not raised a hand.
But she had reached for Lily again.
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