Chapter 10 - The Son Who Finally Looked Up
Daniel looked exhausted.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes and a small cut near his hairline.
He would not tell me how he got it.
Patricia demanded the envelope.
Daniel stepped away from her.
"Not this time," he said.
Richard arrived after I called and brought us to a neutral conference room.
He insisted that Daniel obtain independent counsel before making any formal statements.
My son agreed, then asked to speak to me for five minutes.
We sat across from each other at a table too large for two people.
"Mom," he began.
I waited.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Vanessa told me Dad had promised us the house."
"Did you believe her?"
"I wanted to."
It was the first honest answer I had heard from him in months.
"Why did you let her put me out?"
He swallowed.
"Because I owed people money, and she said the house would solve everything."
"That explains your desperation. It doesn't excuse your silence."
He stared at his hands.
"I know."
I wanted him to say more.
I wanted the full confession that would turn the cruel man on my porch into the child I remembered.
But Daniel only pushed the envelope across the table.
Inside were agreements for a supposed refinancing package.
There was also a spreadsheet of distributions to Elm Harbor.
One line listed an account payable to Patricia.
Another listed a payment to a man named Victor Shaw.
"Who is Victor?" I asked.
"Vanessa's business consultant," Daniel said.
"I thought he was helping us restructure."
"And was he?"
"He kept saying we had to move faster before Dad's estate was settled."
He looked up at last.
"I knew you hadn't signed the transfer."
My heart sank.
"Then why did you tell me the house was yours?"
His eyes filled.
"Because I thought if you were scared enough, you would sign later."
The room seemed to tilt.
I had imagined manipulations and debts and forged papers.
I had not been prepared for my son to admit he had deliberately frightened me.
"You heard what Vanessa said to me," I whispered.
"Yes."
"You saw me carrying your father's photograph out of my own house."
"Yes."
"And you let me go."
He broke down.
I watched him cry without reaching across the table.
After a while he said, "I'm sorry."
It was a sentence I had longed to hear.
It was also painfully small beside what he had done.
"I believe you're sorry," I replied.
"I don't yet know whether I can trust you."
Daniel nodded.
Then his gaze shifted to the envelope.
"Mom, the worst thing isn't in there."
"What is it?"
"Victor has a recording of Dad from the hospital."
I went cold.
"A recording of what?"
May you like
"Something that could make everyone think you agreed to give us the house."
