Wire-Pulling Pt. 03 (End)

After we finally arrived at the Shelter, Mom and I entered the condo as Micheal drove off to take his post in the adjacent building. The very first thing Mom did was to walk straight into the open kitchen area and check the cupboards, fridge, and freezer.

"You didn't have breakfast, Paulie," she said after noticing my questioning look. It made me smile.

"Neither have you, Mom. But don't worry. The place should be fully stocked. And with the nice stuff, since we also use it for high-profile clients who want to have their kids and spouses stowed away from time to time." That caused her to look at me in absolute disbelief that bordered on horror. It took me a moment to understand why, but, when I did, I laughed. "In case their daughters have a stalker, or someone is threatening their partners in a blackmail scenario, or something other along those lines. Not to get rid of them, Mom!"

"Oh," she looked at her feet as if she was ashamed. "That makes more sense, I guess."

Still laughing, I carried our bags into two different bedrooms before placing our toiletries in the bathroom. By the time I was done with that, the smell from the kitchen had spread throughout the condo already.

Wrapping my arms around her midsection, I placed a quick kiss on the back of her head. But, to my surprise, Mom flinched the moment my lips made contact with her hair.

"What's wrong?" I asked, refusing to remove my arm from her waist. She gave me a look that spoke volumes as her eyes darted around the room.

"I thought they were watching," she whispered and even leaned in a little closer so her voice could be even smaller when she said that. I grinned.

"I already told you, you're still my Mom." I increased my hold on her waist to pull her further against me, but I could feel how she relaxed a little and saw the slight twitch in the corners of her mouth when I said that. "Nothing wrong with a little show of affection. And I trust these people with my life." Then I leaned closer to whisper myself. "As long as I don't grope your ass or stick my cock down your throat, we're safe."

That made her blush, but she gave me a shy nod before continuing with her task of preparing our breakfast.

"W-Would you... set the table, Paulie?"

I wasn't sure why her voice sounded so insecure. Surely she didn't think that was something my colleagues could find strange. And, surely, after she had teased me with her lacy underwear this morning, asking me to set the table wasn't something she considered over the line because of her submissive persona.

"Sure!" I just said and did as she asked.

The reason for her insecure voice became clear when she transferred the grilled cheese sandwiches onto plates and sat down with me at the table. Because, the moment she sat next to me, she showed me that brilliant smile, held my hand over the table, and spoke in a soft, quiet voice.

"Thank you, Paulie."

"What for?" I was genuinely perplexed.

"Sitting with you at the same table again... Getting to eat with you again... Spending time with you again... I didn't think we'd ever..." Her eyes became moist as she paused and took a shuttering breath, and then her voice broke. "I'm so unbelievably happy to have you back in my life. I love this, Paulie."

I couldn't help it. I smiled. And I also couldn't help myself when I turned towards her and wrapped her in a hug that we held for a long minute. I had to admit... I liked it too. Genuinely!

"It's alright, Mom. I'm happy too."

I felt her nod against my chest before she pushed herself off me and insisted we eat before it got cold.

About half an hour later, we stood at the sink where she cleaned the plates and I waited to dry them off. There was a dishwasher, but, somehow, it just felt right to do it by hand and share the work. When we were done with that, though, Mom just stood there, looking around the condo indecisively.

"What?" I asked after sitting down on the couch and turning the TV on.

"Well... what am I supposed to do here, Paulie?"

That question took me aback.

"Uh... nothing?" She looked at me like I had lost my mind. "It's a safe house, Mom. Normally, the people we let in here are already stressed out of their minds because of whatever caused them to need our services. So... The kitchen gets stocked for us, the shopping for anything else gets done for us as well, and the cleaning is done before we move in. If they need activity to distract themselves from their worries, they can play games or something. Everything is geared towards letting the tenants lean back and calm down. Well, as much as that's possible while knowing that everything they do is being watched through the cameras."

I chuckled by the end, but Mom still looked like she was anything but happy.

"But then... what... how..." she stammered.

"Mom," I called out in a semi-scolding tone before holding out my hand for her. "How about you just sit down on this disturbingly comfortable sofa and watch a movie with me?"

She hesitated for a second but ultimately nodded with another shy smile.

"O-okay. I would like that, Paulie."

I didn't just let her sit down next to me, though. As soon as her shapely butt made contact with the cushions, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, so she was leaning against me. I felt her resist weakly, and I noticed how her body tensed up once she came into a resting position using me as a backrest. However, I was pretty sure I knew where her reluctance came from.

"Now, let me explain what makes this condo into a safe house," I said before raising my voice. "Whoever is watching us, call me on my cell real quick?" Mom blinked at me while I just smiled at her and, about ten seconds later, my phone rang. I put it on speaker, so she could hear both sides of the conversation. "Jim! How's the image?"

"Very good. We have a full view of the perimeter, so nobody is coming even close to you two without us having more than enough time to intercept them."

I internally chuckled. This wasn't the first time we went through this exercise, trying to prove to a scared client how invested we were in ensuring their safety. This time, though, I hoped Mom would also figure out why I did this with her around. Because we both knew she didn't tense up and acted nervous because she was suddenly scared.

"And what are we doing right now?" I asked into the room, still with my voice raised.

"Looks like you're relaxing on the couch, while the rest of the condo is locked and sealed. So, there is no reason to be cautious of possible intruders. You two are perfectly safe in there and can enjoy your evening."

Now Mom's eyes widened. She understood. Nobody watching us had a problem with us being close to each other. There was no reason to keep her distance from me. It was perfectly normal to anyone but us, who had not been able to share any form of closeness for over a decade. Outside of sex, of course.

Finally, her body relaxed to the point she even allowed my arm to stay draped around her shoulders. We sat there for about two hours watching whatever was on the TV, content with our situation as she even had taken hold of my arm, stopping me from removing it even if I wanted to.

During the next commercial break, I had the quick idea to get some popcorn and looked at her, though I noticed her slow and deep breathing telling me that she had actually felt so relaxed she fell asleep.

I smiled again.

Carefully, as to not disturb her slumber, I extracted myself from her hold, covered her with the wool blanket that lay across the sofa's backrest, and went into the kitchen to start working on the final nail in Dick's coffin.

It took me a good five hours to write down every aspect of my investigation step by step. Initially, the plan was to write three reports. One for Bill, which basically held all the basic information in a streamlined timeline. One for Breston, which he could use to exonerate Mom of the economic espionage accusations. And a third one for the divorce lawyer we'd still have to find, to overturn the divorce decree. After I started on my first report for Bill, though, and went over the timeline of events, I remembered how the judge in Mom's divorce case based his ruling partially on the criminal charges. So, I decided to create only a single but thorough report that covered everything. Breston could use the part about Dick lying in divorce court as grounds to question Dick's credibility, and the divorce lawyer could use it to... I didn't know, but the lawyer would find a reason to drag Dick through the mud during the renegotiations.

Still, with everything I had uncovered and collected, I still worried that it was too circumstantial to convince a judge. On the other hand, though, the evidence of Mom opening that bank account in Gibraltar was circumstantial as well. It was just somewhat believable in combination with Carver telling people about the affair and Mom wanting to hurt Dick.

As it turned out, however, the final piece of evidence, that would prove Mom wasn't the one who opened that bank account, was about to arrive.

At half past four, my phone rang.

"Micheal!" I greeted him happily but quietly after picking up the call, to not disturb Mom's nap.

"Paul... I think you should step out for a minute," I heard him respond in a subdued tone.

I looked at the phone for a second.

"Alright, be right out."

Carefully, and after checking on Mom, I stepped outside where Micheal stood, holding a light brown envelope.

"So, what's up?" I asked tentatively.

"This is the report from the Professor," he said, handing me the envelope. I took it off his hands but then looked at him expecting an explanation for his behavior. "Then... well... Boss just called. That consulting firm you've been investigating? Burned down last night."

I stared at him as the information settled in.

"Fuck."

He nodded.

We both knew, or at least believed to know, what that meant. They knew we were on to them. They knew we came too close. Hopefully, they were just trying to keep law enforcement busy with investigating the fire while they relocated their center of operations. Without another word, we both turned and, as I stepped back into the condo, he went on his way to the observation post.

Thorne's report was just as baffling as the news of Perfect Edge Consulting burning down. Apparently, and according to the Professor's expert opinion that he established with a bunch of incomprehensible blabbing about 'stroke guidance', 'line thicknesses', and a whole bunch of other terms that didn't tell me anything, the signature on the bank account form wasn't copied. Instead, someone had gone through the trouble of actually learning how to sign using Mom's signature. But that person was a damn southpaw, while he and his TA witnessed that Mom wasn't!

While Dick's legal team might have found a way to discredit the supposedly senile old Professor's opinion before buying another graphologist to confirm Mom's signature, with everything else I had, there was not a chance they could bury this!

But, while this proved that Mom wasn't the one signing those papers, it left me with the question of how they managed such a feat in the first place. Again, according to the Professor, this would require a substantial amount of handwriting samples from the person whose signature they wanted to mimic.

And then it dawned on me. In that Asian restaurant, when Dick told his mistress about hiring Perfect Edge Consulting, he told her how "all they asked for was a copy of her personal organizer and a copy of her phone bill". Now, I wasn't sure what they needed her phone bill for, but the personal organizer surely held more than enough specimens of her handwriting.

I shook my head. What I experienced at that moment was a curious mixture of excitement over the prospect of finally holding definitive proof I could use to exonerate Mom, and the never-ending doubt that it might still not be enough because I could still be overlooking some vital piece of information.

After a moment of contemplating this, I noticed Mom turn around on the couch. Even though she was asleep last night when I came back from Austin, sleeping on the couch for that long was only possible if her night was just as short as mine was. Or she was just thoroughly fucked out after what we did last night and needed more sleep than usual.

Either way, I placed Thorne's report on the table I used until then, moved into the living room to stand behind the couch, and leaned over the backrest to kiss her cheek. She stirred awake and looked around, seemingly confused about the unfamiliar surroundings, but quickly brightened up as soon as her eyes focused on me.

"Hey, Mom," I whispered. "I'm thinking about ordering pizza for lunch. But, if you want to sleep some more, I could..."

That's as far as I came. Just like the day she woke up next to me and realized she had forgotten about breakfast, her eyes widened before she jumped up from the couch.

"I'm sorry, Paulie! How late is it? I... I'll get right to it. I..."

"Mom!" I said sternly, causing her to tense up. Now I had to think quickly. While I trusted my colleagues with my life, I didn't really need them to witness the full extent of Mom's conditioning. "Relax! You didn't miss anything. I spent the time preparing the investigation report. Everything is fine."

She looked stricken, but eventually nodded.

"Now, just go and freshen up. I'll order the pizza, then we can eat," I suggested with a reassuring smile.

"O-Okay," she said hesitantly, but when she turned towards the bathroom, she whispered as she passed me. "I'm sorry."

I could only shake my head. I had a lot of work to do.

Ordering the pizzas and cleaning up the table, after I was less than orderly when going through all the material that had amassed throughout my investigation, was done pretty quickly. By the time Mom came out of the bathroom, I even managed to set the table. Of course, that, again, caused her to look uncomfortable.

"Oh... I... I could have..." she stammered while wringing her hands.

It was fairly obvious what was going on, and I had anticipated it. In fact, I hadn't just anticipated it... I had hoped for it to happen ever since she kept insisting that she wasn't good for anything but being used. My main task while living with her in this condo where she didn't have to clean, didn't have to cook, didn't have to take care of the shopping, and, most important of all, couldn't serve me sexually because my colleagues were watching, was to make her understand how I simply wanted her to be my mother again. I wanted her around for no other reason than that.

Sure, I had long accepted having sex with my mother. I was over my initial doubts and fears. She succeeded in making me believe that she needed to be submissive, and needed to be used, in order to really enjoy sex. I was no longer against giving that to her. But she needed to gain some damn self-worth!

"Just sit down, Mom," I said as I pulled out a chair for her that she reluctantly accepted before moving over to the fridge. "What do you want to drink?"

"Water is fine." I could barely hear her say it, despite standing barely fifteen feet away.

"You sure? We have juice, soda, and... even beer!"

"No, Paulie. Thank you. Water is fine."

Swallowing the comment I wanted to make about her boring choice, knowing full well it was based on her fear of being scolded for being presumptuous or some other crap, I grabbed a soda and a bottle of water and placed them both on the table.

"So... I finished my report," I started, trying to pull her out of her shell with some regular small talk.

"Oh?" It didn't sound like she was too interested in the final result of my investigation while presenting me with a half-smile. But what little interest was present in her voice still sounded genuine. I guessed she simply didn't believe that I could actually manage to exonerate her.

"Yes. I just got the report from the Professor before I woke you up. With his expert testimony, it's pretty damn certain that you'll be fully acquitted."

Now my guess got confirmed as her eyes widened and her mouth hung open.

"Wha... really!?"

"Yes. Remember the meeting with the ADA in the office?" She eagerly nodded, eyes still wide in disbelief. "He let it slip that, with Carver's death, their entire case hung on the bank account in your name at that bank in Gibraltar. There was no proof of you actually stealing the documents from Dick in the first place. There was no proof of you even being in contact with Schader's competitors. The whole thing only became believable because of Carver's testimony about your long-term affair and how you wanted to hurt Dick.

"Now that Carver's story is canned after we found the tempered photos, the entire case hung on the fact that the bank account those four million dollars were transferred to was in your name, and they couldn't see why anyone would forgo that kind of money just to frame you. But that bank account was opened online, so there's no record of you ever doing it, so your signature on the forms was all they really had. Thanks to Professor Thorne, though, we now can proof that someone copied your signature."

"So... they..." she started but was still too stunned, or too scared, to actually say it out loud.

"Yes. They have absolutely nothing on you anymore," I nodded with a wide smile.

She stared at me for about three seconds before her face scrunched up and her hands covered her mouth. I quickly got out of my seat and rushed around the table to wrap her in a hug, letting the relief that was undoubtedly flooding her body do its thing. Only when she had calmed down a little did I speak up again.

"It gets even better, Mom. Last night, when I made the trip to Austin, I followed Dick to a restaurant that he visited with his new girlfriend. I followed them with my camera, and I'd like you to look at the video... if you're up for it."

Her face was still moist from the tears she had shed, but when she looked at me, there was a level of conviction in her eyes that I had not seen since she moved in with me. Quickly, she nodded.

Helping her over to the couch, I quickly transferred the video from my laptop to a thumb drive that I could stick into the TV.

"Ready?" I asked, and she nodded again. I pressed play.

What she saw first were Dick and Ms. William sitting at their table.

"Is that the woman he brought home the night he made you stand in front of the bedroom? The night he told you to go sleep with Carver?" I asked while pointing at the screen.

"Y-Yes. That's her." Her voice was still shaky, but clear and, given the way she looked, surprisingly loud.

And then their conversation started. Mom heard her former husband confirm how they had fucked for a while before he brought his girlfriend home for the first time. I saw her head jerk back a little when the woman at Dick's table commented on how they were merely "confronting" Mom about how she mistreated and neglected her husband. I held her hand trying to reassure her as her eyes were completely transfixed on what was playing out on screen.

When the screen turned black, she was still simply staring at the TV without moving.

"Now, with this, we have proof that Dick was the one having an affair. Which also means that we have proof of him lying in court during the divorce hearing."

"Okay?" she commented, obviously not sure what that meant.

"Once we get you a divorce lawyer and hand them this tape, they can have the case renegotiated. The ruling was based on your supposed adultery. Even if you had a chance to attend the hearing, he had photos of your infidelity, while all you had was your word. Now the situation reversed. We can prove that his photos have been doctored, and we have him admit on tape that he was sleeping around behind your back!"