Chapter 4 - The Family Intervention
Two weeks later.
The winter chill had deepened across the valley, coating the oak trees surrounding Riverside Estate in a thin layer of white frost.
My ribs were slowly healing, though I still wore a protective brace under my wool coat. The civil lawsuit was moving forward rapidly, and Jennifer had been released on a $100,000 bail, forced to surrender her passport and wear an electronic ankle monitor while awaiting her felony trial.
On a Tuesday afternoon, my mother called my office phone, weeping.
"Sarah... please," she begged, her voice cracking over the receiver. "Marcus is completely breaking down. He hasn't slept in three days. He wants to come see you. Just him. No lawyers, no Jennifer. Please... he’s your brother."
I looked at the framed photograph on my desk—a picture of Marcus and me as children, standing beside our grandfather on the river dock, holding wooden fishing rods.
I took a slow, quiet breath. "He can come to the estate office at three o'clock. Alone. If anyone else is in his truck, the gate remains locked."
At 3:00 PM sharp, Marcus’s pickup truck pulled through the iron gates.
He stepped into my office, looking hollowed out. He had lost weight, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes wrinkled. The arrogant, entitled brother who had demanded I cancel the Morrison wedding was completely gone.
He sat in the chair across from my desk, burying his face in his hands.
"Sarah..." Marcus rasped, his voice breaking into a dry sob. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry."
I didn't offer him coffee. I didn't reach across the desk to comfort him. I sat back in my leather chair, watching him cleanly.
"Why didn't you stop her, Marcus?" I asked softly.
Marcus looked up, tears running down his pale cheeks. "She... she manipulated me, Sarah. For eight months, every time we talked about the wedding, she told me that you hated her, that you didn't want us to be happy. She told me that if I didn't get Riverside Estate for her, it proved I didn't love her enough to stand up to my family."
"And when she pushed me into the street?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave. "Why did you run away?"
Marcus dropped his head back onto his chest, sobbing hysterically. "I panicked! She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the truck! She told me that if we stayed, the police would arrest all of us and ruin our lives! I was a coward, Sarah! I was an absolute coward!"
"Yes," I said flatly. "You were."
Marcus reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small velvet box and setting it on my desk.
Inside sat Jennifer’s three-carat diamond engagement ring.
"I ended it yesterday," Marcus whispered, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I called off the engagement. I packed her things and dropped them at her mother's house. I realized that if a woman can shove my sister under a truck because she didn't get her way, she would destroy my life the moment things got tough."
I looked at the diamond ring resting on my desk.
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"That's a start, Marcus," I said quietly. "But it doesn't change what happened on Market Street. And it doesn't change the fact that Jennifer is going to prison."
Marcus looked at me, his eyes full of profound, broken regret. "I know. I've already given a formal statement to Detective Miller. I'm testifying for the prosecution."
