Chapter 6 - The House That Was Supposed to Be Mine
I had imagined meeting my father's family in a hundred different ways.
A birthday dinner.
A Christmas morning.
A quiet afternoon where someone showed me old photographs and told me I had my grandfather's smile.
I had never imagined walking into their lives because a dangerous man was threatening to destroy everything.
But that was what happened.
Richard Bennett had locked himself inside the old family estate.
He claimed he had documents proving Arthur was unfit to manage the family business.
He was also threatening to release private records about my mother.
Arthur wanted to go immediately.
Rachel stopped him.
"Not alone."
He looked furious.
"That's my home."
"And Richard knows every entrance."
I stood beside my mother's hospital bed.
"Does he know about the DNA test?"
Rachel nodded.
"We believe so."
I looked down at my hands.
Twenty years ago, Richard had decided I wasn't worth loving.
Now he was desperate to control me.
"Why does he want to see me?"
Arthur turned toward me.
"Because he's losing control."
Rachel opened her briefcase.
"The original trust agreement contains a provision requiring independent verification of a grandchild beneficiary. Your existence gives us grounds to challenge Richard's past management."
I frowned.
"So he needs me to disappear again?"
Arthur's expression darkened.
"He won't get that chance."
The police had already opened an investigation.
They were examining the trust documents, the recordings, and the circumstances surrounding my mother's confinement.
But Richard still had powerful friends.
He had spent decades building them.
Rachel warned us not to underestimate him.
"He may try to manipulate Maya into signing something."
I felt sick.
"I don't understand any of those documents."
"Then you don't sign anything," she replied. "Not until you have independent advice."
Arthur nodded.
"And you never have to sign something just because I ask, either."
I looked at him.
That surprised me.
Denise had always told me obedience was love.
Arthur was telling me I could say no.
For the first time, I wondered what having a real father might feel like.
That evening, my mother was moved to a private recovery room under additional security.
Jordan visited with clean clothes and a small bag of hair products.
"I thought you might want these."
I smiled weakly.
"Thank you."
He hesitated.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you want your hair cleaned up?"
My hands went to my locks.
He immediately added:
"Not cut. Just washed and cared for. We can take it slowly."
I looked toward the mirror.
For years, my hair had been my hiding place.
My shield.
My mother's secret.
Now the secret was out.
Maybe I didn't have to carry all that weight alone.
"I think I'd like that."
Jordan smiled.
"Then we'll do it whenever you're ready."
The next morning, Arthur brought me to a beautiful house across the city.
Not the old family estate.
His own home.
It stood behind tall iron gates, surrounded by trees and a wide green lawn.
I stopped beside the car.
"This is where you live?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I stared at the enormous windows.
The stone steps.
The fountain near the entrance.
"Alone?"
His smile was sad.
"Mostly."
Inside, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
There were paintings on the walls and expensive furniture in every room.
But something was missing.
Photographs.
Laughter.
Life.
Arthur showed me a sitting room overlooking the garden.
"Would you like something to eat?"
I nodded.
He asked the housekeeper to bring lunch.
When the food arrived, I waited for permission.
Arthur noticed.
"Maya?"
I looked up.
"Yes?"
"You can eat."
I lowered my eyes.
"Sorry."
He sat opposite me.
"Why are you apologizing?"
I couldn't answer.
At Denise's house, food had been controlled.
If I broke a rule, I missed a meal.
If she was angry, I waited until everyone else finished.
Sometimes there was nothing left.
Arthur looked at my untouched plate.
Then he quietly pushed his own plate aside.
"Nobody here is going to punish you for eating."
Tears filled my eyes.
I picked up my fork.
And ate until I was full.
After lunch, Arthur led me upstairs.
He opened the door to a large bedroom.
Cream walls.
A soft bed.
A private bathroom.
Windows overlooking the garden.
Fresh flowers on a table.
I stood frozen.
"Whose room is this?"
Arthur swallowed.
"It can be yours."
I stared at him.
"Mine?"
"If you want it."
I stepped inside.
The carpet felt soft beneath my new shoes.
I touched the bedspread.
Then the curtains.
Then the polished wooden dresser.
I couldn't stop checking the door.
Arthur noticed.
"You can lock it from inside."
I turned.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"And nobody here has a key to use on you while you're inside. In an emergency, we'll knock and explain what's happening."
My lips trembled.
I had spent years behind locked doors.
Now I had a door I could control.
Arthur stood in the doorway.
"I don't expect you to feel at home immediately."
I looked at him.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
His face twisted with pain.
"Because you're my daughter."
I shook my head.
"But you don't know me."
He stepped closer.
"Then I'd like to."
That evening, we sat together looking through old photographs.
He showed me pictures of himself when he was young.
My grandfather.
My grandmother.
And my mother.
In one photograph, Arthur and Evelyn stood beside a lake.
They were laughing.
My mother was holding a bouquet.
Arthur looked so happy.
"What happened to that man?" I asked.
He stared at the photograph.
"He thought he'd lost everything."
I took his hand.
"Maybe you haven't."
He looked at me.
Then smiled through tears.
"Maybe not."
For the first time, I laughed.
A real laugh.
It surprised both of us.
Then Arthur's phone rang.
Marcus was calling.
Arthur answered.
"What?"
His face changed.
"How long ago?"
I watched him slowly stand.
He glanced toward the window.
Then toward me.
"Are the police there?"
He listened.
Finally, he whispered:
"Keep Maya away from the windows."
My blood turned cold.
"Dad?"
He ended the call.
I stood.
"What happened?"
Arthur walked toward me.
"Richard is no longer at the estate."
I stared at him.
"Where is he?"
Arthur looked toward the dark garden.
"We don't know."
Then we heard a loud crash from downstairs.
May you like
Someone screamed.
And every light in the house went out.
