“I know.”
“And you know your mom is going to call crying, and your dad is going to call threatening, and Danny is going to try to mediate?”
“I know.”
“And you’re okay with that? With holding the line?”
I looked up at him, at his kind, worried face. “I have to be. For Lily. For us. For me.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m proud of you.”
“I don’t feel very proud. I feel like a terrible daughter.”
“You’re not. You’re a great daughter who finally realized her parents were terrible parents.”
The cease and desist letter went out on Wednesday via certified mail. Jennifer sent me a copy:
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Chen,
This letter serves as formal notice that you are to cease and desist all contact with Sarah Chen-Thompson, Marcus Thompson, and Lily Thompson, effective immediately.
This includes but is not limited to: – Phone calls, text messages, emails, or any other form of direct communication – Contact through third parties – Visits to their residence or place of employment – Contact with Lily’s school or childcare providers – Social media contact
Additionally, you are hereby notified that the 2021 Honda Accord (VIN: XXXXX) registered to Sarah Chen-Thompson and currently in your possession must be returned within fourteen (14) days of receipt of this letter. Failure to return the vehicle will result in a police report for theft.
Any violation of this cease and desist order will result in immediate legal action, including but not limited to a restraining order and criminal charges where applicable.
This is not a request. This is a legal demand.
Reading it made everything feel terrifyingly real.
They received the letter on Friday—I got the delivery confirmation at 2:37 p.m. My phone started ringing at 2:51 p.m. Mom’s number. I didn’t answer.
Thirteen more calls over the next hour, alternating between Mom, Dad, and Danny’s numbers. I let them all go to voicemail.
At 4:15 p.m., Marcus’s work phone rang. His boss transferred it to him.
“Marcus Thompson.”
“Marcus, this is Robert. Put Sarah on the phone right now.”
