Chapter 4
The second video was not really a video.
The screen was black.
But the audio was clear.
Noah must have left the tablet running on Mrs. Keller’s guest bed.
I heard his breathing first.
Small.
Uneven.
Then Rebecca’s voice came through the speaker.
She must have been on Mrs. Keller’s porch, calling someone.
“I need him gone before Daniel checks the account.”
A man answered.
Not Mark.
Not anyone in my family.
“Does the boy know?”
“No. He thinks this is about vacation.”
The man laughed.
My stomach turned.
Rebecca continued.
“Once Daniel signs the new custody recommendation, Noah’s access freezes. Then we move the money into Emma’s education account.”
I looked at Rebecca.
Her face had gone white.
“What money?” I asked.
She did not answer.
Mrs. Keller whispered, “Oh my.”
The recording kept playing.
The man said, “And if Daniel refuses?”
Rebecca answered, “Then I make him choose. His unstable son or his perfect daughter.”
Emma flinched like she had been slapped.
I paused the audio.
Rebecca spoke fast.
“You’re taking that out of context.”
“Who was the man?”
“My attorney.”
“You told your attorney you were moving my son’s money?”
She lifted her chin.
“That money should benefit the children living in this house.”
“Noah lives in this house.”
“He lives in the past.”
The words landed like poison.
I stepped back because if I stayed close, my anger would become something my children should not see.
“What account?”
My mother sat down slowly.
She knew.
Of course she knew.
I turned to her.
“Tell me.”
Her lips trembled.
“Lily’s parents set up a trust for Noah after she died.”
“I know that.”
“You never looked at it.”
“I didn’t need to. It was for college.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“It is not just college money, Daniel.”
My blood went cold.
“What does that mean?”
Mrs. Keller spoke softly.
“Lily’s father was Harold Whitcomb.”
The name hit the room hard.
Whitcomb Medical.
Hospitals.
Real estate.
Old Chicago money.
I had never cared.
Lily hated her father’s world and left it before I met her.
After she died, her parents cut contact with me and Noah.
Or so I thought.
Mrs. Keller looked at Noah.
“Harold came to my house last month. He wanted to see his grandson.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“I told Rebecca. She said you knew.”
Rebecca shouted, “Stay out of this!”
Mrs. Keller did not move.
“He left a letter.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.
My name was written on the front.
Daniel Mercer.
Inside was a letter from Harold Whitcomb.
Mr. Mercer,
I am dying. My daughter’s son is my only living heir. I have tried to contact you for two years. Your wife informed my office that Noah was too emotionally damaged to handle family contact. I now believe I was misled.
I wish to see my grandson.
I wish to make things right.
My estate attorney will contact you regarding Noah’s inheritance.
The paper shook in my hands.
Two years.
Rebecca had kept Lily’s family from Noah.
She had told them my son was damaged.
She had tried to move him out before the inheritance surfaced.
I looked at my wife.
No.
The woman I married.
“You left him behind to prove he was unwanted.”
Rebecca’s face twisted.
“I left him behind because he is always between us.”
“He is my child.”
“And I am your wife!”
“No,” Emma said.
Her voice was small but clear.
“You’re the reason our family feels scary.”
Rebecca turned toward her.
“Emma.”
My daughter backed up.
“Don’t.”
That single word shattered Rebecca’s control.
She lunged toward the tablet.
I grabbed it first.
She clawed at my arm.
Nico, my brother-in-law who had arrived quietly with Mark’s wife, pulled her back.
Police sirens sounded outside.
Mrs. Keller had called them before she came over.
Smart woman.
Rebecca screamed that I was turning everyone against her.
My mother cried.
Mark looked like he wanted to disappear.
Noah clung to me.
When officers entered, I handed them the tablet.
Then I handed them the torn custody papers.
Then the letter.
Rebecca pointed at Noah.
“He destroys everything!”
The officer looked at my son’s tear-streaked face.
Then at me.
“Sir, do you want her removed?”
I looked at Noah.
May you like
Then at Emma.
“Yes,” I said. “Tonight.”
