Chapter 10
Walter did not apologize.
That made him easier to understand.
He believed everything he did protected Cross.
“You’ve become sentimental.”
I almost laughed.
“Seven children lived in a closed camp.”
“They were fed.”
“Not the point.”
“They were educated.”
“Not the point.”
“They were safer than with unstable mothers.”
There.
“Unstable” again.
Women who complained.
Widows who refused.
Parents who resisted dependency.
I asked:
“What is a parasite?”
Walter answered immediately.
“Someone who takes from the family and gives nothing back.”
I stared.
“Molly was five.”
“She would grow.”
“Into what?”
“Whatever her mother taught her.”
There.
Children as ideological territory.
I finally understood why he smiled when Gordon frightened Jonah and Elsie.
He saw it as education.
Teach them young.
Then they become adults who never question the exchange.
Roof for obedience.
Food for loyalty.
Safety for silence.
I leaned forward.
“You never ran Cross.”
He smiled.
“I kept it alive while you played secret queen.”
That hit something true.
My secrecy had costs.
I kept my authority quiet because it protected me from rivals.
Walter became the public elder in domestic matters.
People assumed he could approve placements, aid, household decisions.
I benefited from that ambiguity when convenient.
Then ignored what power he accumulated inside it.
That was mine to fix.
Walter continued:
“You needed me.”
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
“I did.”
Then:
“And I left too much under your control.”
His smile returned.
Mistake.
“That does not make what you did mine.”
The smile disappeared.
Accountability without self-absolution.
Both.
I removed every domestic authority Walter held.
No family aid.
No housing decisions.
No child placements.
No staff control.
No access to Jonah or Elsie.
He laughed.
“You think paperwork replaces loyalty?”
“No.”
I stood.
“Direct access replaces you.”
From that day, every supported family could contact my office without Walter.
No intermediaries required.
No price for being heard.
May you like
His entire system depended on isolation.
I ended that first.
