Chapter 36 #2
Mitchell produced a box of tissues, handing them to Rebecca with perfect, practiced sympathy. "Ms. Walsh, I know this has been incredibly difficult for you to share. Thank you for your courage."
Rebecca nodded, dabbing at her eyes, her whole body radiating trauma and fear.
"Have there been other encounters specifically with Ms. Doyle?" Mitchell asked softly.
"No." Rebecca's voice was barely audible now. "That's all. But isn't that enough?" She looked up, her face blotchy from crying. "I don't know this woman. I don't know what she's capable of."
She pressed her fingers to her temples. "I can't sleep. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder." Her voice broke. "I know how this sounds, but when someone threatens you, what else can you think?"
Her eyes welled up. "When I told Gavin, he dismissed me completely. Called me dramatic. That's when I knew I had to file for custody reevaluation—he'd chosen her over our daughter's safety."
Behind me, Andi's breathing quickened. Every muscle in my body tensed with the urge to turn around, to defend her. Victor's hand brushed my arm—stay put.
Mitchell nodded slowly, as if wrapping up, then pivoted. "Ms. Walsh, beyond Ms. Doyle showing up in these public places, have there been other ways her presence has affected your life?"
"It isn't just her showing up." Rebecca's voice shifted, taking on something quieter, almost sad.
"It's what she's done to our ability to co-parent.
Gavin and I were never perfect, but we managed.
We communicated. We made it work for Charisse.
" She smoothed her skirt. "A few months ago, I happened to be near his office.
I saw him heading into a deli, and I thought, okay, this is a chance.
Just grab a few minutes, talk about Charisse, and discuss some of my concerns. That's all I wanted."
"And what happened?"
"He could barely look at me. Refused to even acknowledge me beyond niceties, and he wouldn't even stay to eat. The man I co-parented with for years couldn't sit across from me for ten minutes to discuss our daughter." Her voice wavered. "He left before he even got his food. Just walked out."
"Ms. Walsh, what did you observe that led you to draw any conclusions about his behavior?"
"He kept looking at the door. Like he was afraid of being seen with me." She folded her hands in her lap. "I don't think he's allowed to have a normal conversation with me anymore. I think that's been made very clear to him."
Mitchell nodded sympathetically. "Ms. Walsh, how has this affected your relationship with Charisse?"
Rebecca's voice cracked. "I can't talk to my ten-year-old about this.
What would I say? That her father's girlfriend threatened me?
That I'm terrified at every drop-off?" She dabbed her eyes with the tissue.
"I try to ask subtle questions to see if Andi treats her badly too.
She doesn't seem to, but maybe that's only because Gavin's watching. "
Mitchell paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "Ms. Walsh, can you tell the court if you have any other concerns?"
Rebecca's voice dropped to a whisper. "I worry she's trying to replace me.
" Her fingers trembled along her skirt hem.
And there it was. One unguarded second before the performance reasserted itself.
Not the tears, not the trembling hands. Just that.
The fear underneath all of it wasn't about Andi at all.
It was about Charisse growing up and choosing someone else to need.
I'd watched Rebecca lose David. Lose the Beacon Hill life she'd built.
And now she was watching our daughter fall in love with a family that wasn't hers.
I almost felt something for her in that moment. Almost.
Rebecca's fingers smoothed her skirt once more, and just like that, the frightened mother disappeared, replaced by a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. "Charisse needs her mother. She needs stability." Her gaze slid past Mitchell to Andi in the gallery. "Not someone unstable."
Judge Weston watched from the bench, her face a professional mask as she studied Rebecca—taking in everything while revealing nothing.
"Objection," Victor said, rising to his feet. "The witness is speculating about Ms. Doyle's mental state without any foundation."
"Sustained," Judge Weston said. "Ms. Walsh, please stick to what you've observed, not your interpretations."
Rebecca nodded, looking appropriately chastened. "Of course, Your Honor. I apologize."
Mitchell let the silence stretch, then asked quietly, "Is there anything else you'd like to tell the court about these incidents?"
Rebecca shook her head, her voice barely audible. "I've said everything I can bear to say. It's... it's just too painful to continue."
The courtroom remained silent. Rebecca sat with her hands folded in her lap, her whole body seeming to collapse under the weight of her fear and pain.
It was a devastating performance. Judge Weston didn't react outwardly, but she made a note. And she didn't look at Victor when she did it.
Mitchell lobbed a few softballs about mother-daughter routines. Rebecca caught each one with just enough trembling emotion to reinforce her narrative: devoted mother, threatened woman, child in danger.
Finally, Mitchell returned to his table. "No further questions, Your Honor."
I sat frozen, fists clenched under the table. The gallery behind me held a different kind of silence—not judgment but restrained fury. The Doyles radiated tension. Patty likely gripping Tom's arm, Andi’s brothers all likely on the edge.
And Andi. Somewhere in that charged silence, Andi sat with her family, unable to defend herself, unable to speak, forced to listen as Rebecca painted her as an unstable stalker who threatened a terrified mother.
The weight of it pressed down on my chest. I couldn't turn around. Couldn't catch her eye. Couldn't do anything but sit here at this table, separated from her by the wooden bar and the rules of the court.
Victor leaned close, his voice barely a whisper. "Breathe. We're about to dismantle every word of that."
But first, we had to sit with it. Let the lies hang in the air. Let Rebecca believe the performance had worked.