Chapter 2 - The Recording They Never Expected
I had never seen Claire speechless before.
In our house, she always had something to say.
She corrected how I dressed.
How I ate.
How loudly I closed doors.
Even how much time I spent talking to my father.
But now she stood beside the staircase with her mouth slightly open.
Maya stared at her.
"Mom, you promised!"
Claire recovered first.
"Maya, sweetheart, calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down!"
My father stepped between them.
"What did you promise her?"
"Daniel, this is getting ridiculous."
Nia raised her phone.
"Then you won't mind if I play it."
Claire's voice sharpened.
"Put that away."
"No."
I had never heard Nia speak to an adult like that.
She was shaking, but she didn't back down.
My father looked at her.
"Play the recording."
Nia tapped the screen.
The footage showed our kitchen from earlier that afternoon.
The image was black and white.
The camera had been installed after a package theft, but it also captured part of the dining area.
Claire sat at the kitchen island.
Maya stood beside her.
The audio wasn't perfect, but their voices were clear enough.
Maya said, "What if Jordan tells Dad?"
Claire responded, "He won't have the chance if you do exactly what we discussed."
My throat tightened.
On the recording, Maya crossed her arms.
"I don't want him arrested."
Claire sighed.
"Nobody said anything about getting him arrested."
"Then why do I have to say he grabbed me?"
"Because Daniel will never ask his son to leave unless he believes you aren't safe."
My father staggered backward.
I reached for the arm of the couch.
I suddenly understood why Maya had approached me earlier.
Why she had grabbed my sleeve.
Why she had started crying the moment Claire and Dad returned.
It had all been planned.
On the recording, Maya looked uncertain.
"What if the cameras catch us?"
Claire answered, "The living-room camera hasn't worked in months."
Nia stopped the video.
Nobody spoke.
Then my father looked at his wife.
"You planned this?"
Claire shook her head.
"Daniel, you're misunderstanding."
He pointed toward the phone.
"I heard you."
"That conversation is being taken out of context."
I almost laughed.
"Out of context?"
My voice came out hoarse.
"You told her to accuse me!"
Claire turned toward me.
"Jordan, you don't understand how difficult this family situation has become."
"Then explain it."
She looked away.
Maya dropped onto the staircase and began crying.
This time, her tears looked different.
Before, she had performed for an audience.
Now she looked like someone whose world was collapsing.
My father pressed his palms against his face.
"Why?"
Claire hesitated.
Then she said, "Because something had to change."
"Change what?"
"Your son has never accepted me."
I stared at her.
That was her explanation?
I had spent three years trying not to cause problems.
When she complained about my music, I wore headphones.
When she said my bedroom was too big, I moved into the smaller room.
When she wanted family photographs without me, I volunteered to take them.
And she believed I was the problem?
"I accepted you," I said quietly. "I just never stopped loving my mother."
Claire's expression hardened.
"There it is."
My father frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your son constantly reminds me that I'll never be his mother."
"Because you're not," I whispered.
She flinched.
I didn't feel guilty.
My mother had been named Rachel Harris.
She had been kind, funny, and stubborn.
She used to leave notes in my lunchbox.
She sang terribly while cooking dinner.
And she had loved me with everything she had.
Nobody could replace her.
That didn't mean I had refused to respect Claire.
But Claire had never been satisfied with respect.
She wanted the past erased.
My father turned toward Maya.
"Did your mother tell you to make that accusation?"
Maya wiped her eyes.
"She said Jordan needed to move out."
"Answer me."
"Yes."
The word landed like a stone.
My father closed his eyes.
"Did he ever touch you inappropriately?"
"No."
"Did he ever threaten you?"
"No."
"Did he ever make you feel unsafe?"
Maya looked at me.
Her face crumpled.
"No."
I waited for relief.
It still didn't come.
Instead, I imagined what might have happened without Nia.
My father could have thrown me out.
Claire might have called the police.
People might have believed Maya.
My reputation could have been destroyed before I understood what I was fighting.
And my father had nearly helped them.
He turned toward me.
"Jordan, son—"
"Don't."
He stopped.
I couldn't bear hearing him call me that right now.
Claire stepped forward.
"Daniel, we need to discuss this privately."
"No."
His voice suddenly sounded different.
"You're going to explain why you wanted my son gone."
Claire looked at the security camera above the bookshelf.
Then toward the upstairs hallway.
Her eyes moved like she was searching for an escape.
Finally, she said, "Because of the house."
My father frowned.
"What about the house?"
Claire swallowed.
"Jordan turns nineteen next month."
I stared at her.
"What does my birthday have to do with anything?"
My father went completely still.
Claire noticed.
"Oh, so you never told him?"
"Dad?"
He didn't answer.
Claire laughed bitterly.
"Of course you didn't."
She looked at me.
"Your mother left you more than photographs, Jordan."
My heart began pounding again.
"What are you talking about?"
My father whispered, "Claire, stop."
But she continued.
"This house doesn't belong entirely to your father."
The silence was unbearable.
I looked around the living room.
The marble fireplace.
The staircase.
The windows where my mother used to hang Christmas decorations.
My father had always called it our family home.
Claire pointed at me.
"Part of this house belongs to him."
I stared at my father.
"Is that true?"
His face twisted with shame.
"Yes."
"How much?"
He hesitated.
Claire answered for him.
"Half."
I felt the room tilt.
Half the house?
My mother had left me half the house, and nobody had told me?
My father grabbed the back of a chair.
"Rachel's estate agreement gives Jordan certain rights when he turns nineteen."
Claire folded her arms.
"And when he does, he can stop us from making decisions about the property."
My father looked at her.
"Is that why you wanted him gone?"
She didn't answer.
He raised his voice.
"CLAIRE!"
"Yes!"
Her scream echoed through the house.
"Yes, Daniel! I wanted him gone!"
I stood frozen.
She pointed at me.
"Because I'm tired of living in a house where your dead wife still controls everything!"
My father recoiled.
For three years, I had wondered why Claire seemed to hate my presence.
Now I understood.
I wasn't just her husband's son.
I was an obstacle.
And apparently, I had been an obstacle worth destroying.
Nia stepped closer to me.
"We need to save these recordings somewhere safe."
I nodded.
But Maya suddenly lifted her head.
"Mom, you said nobody would get hurt."
Claire turned sharply.
"Maya, be quiet."
"No!"
Maya stood up.
"You said we'd just scare him into moving out!"
My father whispered, "What else did you do?"
Maya stared at her mother.
Then at me.
Her lips trembled.
"I signed something."
Claire's face went gray.
My father slowly turned toward her.
"What did she sign?"
Maya began crying harder.
"She said it was just paperwork."
May you like
A terrible silence filled the room.
Then Maya whispered, "But it had Jordan's name on it."
