A Missing Key 218 Missed Calls One Family Secret novel Chapter 39

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Following my carefully researched plan, I dangled the bait.

“How about we meet at the Community Mediation Center on our block? They can witness it, we sign the agreement, and I’ll ask my parents to transfer the money right away. That protects both of us.”

The Community Mediation Center – it sounded official but had no real enforcement power. Perfect stage for what I had planned.

They didn’t understand the law. They’d just think it was some kind of “notary office” to guarantee their payday- their victory lap.

“Fine! Let’s do it! I want to see what tricks your family’s trying to pull now!” She agreed without hesitation.

At 2 PM, I arrived early at the mediation room on the second floor of the community center.

Two mediators were already there – a kind-looking woman and a serious man.

I placed copies of that old fifty-thousand-dollar “severance agreement” and my childhood medical records clearly showing chronic malnutrition in front of them, giving them a brief rundown of the situation.

Soón, my so-called “parents” and Cole strutted in like they owned the place.

Seeing just me and two harmless-looking mediators, they got even cockier.

“Where’s the money?” My “dad” plopped down and banged on the table.

The female mediator cleared her throat:

“Sir, today Mia Johnson has requested mediation regarding the custody and visitation dispute between both parties…”

“Cut the crap!” My “mother” shrieked, interrupting her:

“What dispute! We gave birth to her, so she owes us! Today it’s either a hundred grand and we sign papers to call it even, or we’re taking her to court for abandonment! We’ll put up banners at her school so everyone knows her

dad’s a killer!”

The word “killer” exploded like thunder in that tiny mediation room.

Both mediators’ faces changed instantly.

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A Missing Key, 218 Missed Calls, One Family Secret

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Chapter 7

My “dad” added smugly.

“Everyone knows what Jake used to do, right? How his real daughter died – doesn’t he know? You people letting her live with someone who got his own kid killed, aren’t you scared she’ll end up the same way?”

They’d pulled out their most vicious weapon right in front of official mediators, holding nothing back.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

I didn’t get angry, just sat there watching their performance while pressing record on my phone in my pocket.

When they finished their rant, I looked up at the stone-faced mediators.

“You both heard that.”

Then I looked at those three stunned people, my eyes completely cold.

“First, according to the law, you voluntarily gave up custody rights years ago and accepted fifty thousand in compensation. Here’s the agreement.”

“Second, you just publicly slandered and extorted me and my father in front of mediators, demanding a hundred thousand dollars. I recorded the whole thing.”

I put my phone on the table and played back the recording. Those demands for “a hundred grand” echoed clearly through the room.

“Now we have two options.”

“First, I call the cops. Extortion, slander – the evidence is rock solid, witnesses and recordings included. You can

enjoy prison.”

“Second,” I pushed a mediation agreement I’d had a lawyer draft across to them, “sign this. Black and white acknowledgment that you voluntarily gave up custody, and you promise never to harass, contact, or slander me or my family in any way. Break it, and you face massive compensation and criminal charges.”

“There’s no third option. Do you want the hundred grand you’ll never get plus jail time, or do you want your

freedom? Your choice.”

In the face of law and evidence, their tantrum tactics were worthless.

Finally, with shaking hands, they signed their names and pressed their thumbprints on that agreement.

I walked out of the community center holding that legally binding mediation agreement.

Sunlight hit my face, and for the first time I felt like I could really protect my family.

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A Missing Key, 218 Missed Calls, One Family Secret

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Chapter 7

Using logic they could understand and rules they had to follow.

At eighteen, I got into the best university in the state.

The night before I left for college, Dad fired up the grill himself and made me a burger.

Same big bun, thick beef patty, two perfectly fried eggs stacked on top.

He said one represented the past, one the future.

We sat under the lamp, eating. Mom kept adding fries to my plate, smiling but with red eyes.

“Take care of yourself at college,” Dad’s voice was hoarse. “If you need money, just call home. Don’t go without. And

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