Chapter 4
I had never understood why Vanessa hated hearing my mother's name.
Whenever I mentioned Danielle, she changed the subject.
When I asked to visit Mom's grave, she said Dad was busy.
When I wanted to put family photographs in the living room, she told me the house needed a fresh beginning.
For a long time, I believed she was simply uncomfortable.
Now I knew she'd been hiding something.
Dad returned from the attorney's office that afternoon.
He looked exhausted.
His navy jacket was wrinkled.
His eyes were red.
I ran toward him.
"Daddy!"
He hugged me immediately.
For a moment, he held me without speaking.
Then I asked, "Did you find Mommy?"
His expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
I swallowed.
"The video."
He looked toward Rebecca.
She nodded gently.
Dad crouched.
"Sweetheart, we found a recording your mother made."
My heart pounded.
"Can I see it?"
He hesitated.
I felt frightened.
"Is it bad?"
He touched my cheek.
"Some of it concerns adult problems."
I looked down.
Then he continued.
"But there are also beautiful memories of your mom."
My eyes filled with tears.
"Can I see those?"
He smiled sadly.
"Of course."
That evening, Dad connected his laptop to the television.
Aunt Rebecca sat beside me.
The first video showed Mom in our old backyard.
She wore a yellow sundress.
Her natural curls moved in the breeze.
I was four years old.
I ran toward her holding a purple flower.
Mom laughed.
"Look at my beautiful girl!"
My throat tightened.
On the screen, little me handed her the flower.
Mom kissed my forehead.
Then looked toward the camera.
"Marcus, are you recording?"
Dad's voice answered.
"Absolutely."
Mom laughed.
"Then make sure you capture my good side."
I began crying.
I hadn't heard her laugh so clearly in years.
Dad pulled me close.
We watched another video.
Mom teaching me to ride a bicycle.
Mom dancing in the kitchen.
Mom singing a birthday song.
Each recording felt like a small piece of her returning.
Then Dad paused the television.
"There's another video, Maya."
I looked up.
"Okay."
He took a breath.
"I want you to know that none of the problems between adults were caused by you."
I nodded.
Then he continued.
"And whatever we learn, your mother's love for you never changes."
My eyes filled with tears.
He played the recording.
Mom appeared sitting at her desk.
She looked tired.
Her face was thinner than in the earlier videos.
She held a folder.
Someone knocked.
Mom said, "Come in."
Then Vanessa entered.
I froze.
She looked younger.
Her hair was shorter.
But I recognized her immediately.
Vanessa sat across from Mom.
"I got your message."
Mom looked serious.
"Thank you for coming."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Danielle, I don't know what you expect me to say."
Mom took a breath.
"I expect honesty."
The recording continued.
Vanessa looked toward the camera.
"Are you recording this?"
Mom nodded.
"Yes."
Vanessa laughed nervously.
"Why?"
Mom held up the folder.
"Because the records don't match what you told me."
Dad paused the video.
I looked at him.
"What records?"
He swallowed.
"Financial records from a charity your mom helped manage."
I frowned.
"Was Vanessa working there?"
Dad nodded.
"Yes."
I stared at the screen.
Vanessa had always said she met Dad after Mom died.
But apparently she'd known both of my parents years earlier.
I felt confused.
"Did you know they worked together?"
Dad shook his head.
"Not until recently."
My stomach tightened.
He played the recording again.
Mom placed papers on the desk.
"These donations were supposed to support families with sick children."
Vanessa looked uncomfortable.
"I know."
Mom continued.
"Then why were payments made to your private account?"
The room on the television became silent.
Vanessa looked toward the door.
Then whispered, "You don't understand."
Mom leaned forward.
"Then explain."
Vanessa began crying.
"I was going to put it back."
I felt cold.
Dad paused the video.
I looked at him.
"Did she steal money?"
He answered carefully.
"Your mother was questioning financial transactions."
I nodded.
"Does that mean Vanessa did something wrong?"
Dad took a breath.
"That's what the proper investigation needs to determine."
I stared at the screen.
The video continued.
Mom looked exhausted.
"Vanessa, I need you to cooperate with the accountant."
Vanessa shook her head.
"If this gets out, I'll lose everything."
Mom's voice remained calm.
"Then tell the truth before things get worse."
The recording ended.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then I whispered, "Mommy was brave."
Dad's eyes filled with tears.
"Yes."
Rebecca wiped her cheeks.
"Very brave."
I looked toward the television.
Then asked something that made Dad close his eyes.
"Did Vanessa marry you because she wanted those papers?"
For a moment, he couldn't answer.
Then he said, "I don't know, sweetheart."
I nodded.
That was the hardest part.
For years, Vanessa had lived in our house.
She'd made rules.
Taken my things.
And told me I had to respect her.
Now I was discovering she had known my mother.
And possibly feared something Mom had recorded.
Dad held me close.
"We're going to find out what happened."
I whispered, "Promise?"
He kissed my forehead.
"I promise we'll look for the truth."
The next day, Dad met with the charity's former accountant, Ms. Eleanor Price.
She was a Black woman in her sixties with silver glasses and a calm voice.
She'd worked with Mom for years.
Dad later told me what they discussed.
The charity had provided emergency assistance to families dealing with serious childhood illnesses.
Mom helped organize fundraising events.
Vanessa had worked in administrative finance.
Several payments were questioned shortly before Mom became critically ill.
But the review stopped when she died.
The records were boxed away.
And the charity eventually closed.
Ms. Price still possessed copies of some documents.
She agreed to provide them to the appropriate investigators.
That evening, Dad received another call from Olivia Grant.
I was sitting nearby doing homework.
His expression changed.
"Are you certain?"
He listened.
Then looked toward the stairs.
"Send it to me."
He ended the call.
I looked up.
"Daddy?"
He sat beside me.
His hands were trembling.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
He swallowed.
"The attorney found an old letter your mother wrote."
My eyes widened.
"To who?"
Dad's voice broke.
"To me."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"She wrote it shortly before she died."
My heart pounded.
"Did she say something about Vanessa?"
Dad nodded.
Then whispered, "She said she was afraid someone might try to silence her."
I couldn't breathe.
May you like
Because suddenly, the fire in our backyard no longer seemed like a punishment.
It seemed like someone was trying to destroy the last evidence my mother had left behind.
