Chapter 7
I thought I'd already cried every tear I had left.
But when Naomi told me Derek had tried to sell Samuel's records, my chest hurt all over again.
"Sell them?"
My voice sounded weak.
Marcus sat beside me.
Naomi nodded.
"The former business partner says Derek contacted him about some old contracts and documents."
I shook my head.
"Why would anyone buy those?"
"Some records might have financial value. Others might be used to support false claims."
I stared at her.
"Did Derek sell them?"
"We don't know yet."
I closed my eyes.
Samuel had kept those papers because he believed the truth mattered.
Derek saw them as something he could turn into cash.
That was the difference between them.
One man spent his life building.
The other had spent years trying to take.
Patricia squeezed my hand.
"Evie, you're not facing this alone."
I looked at her.
For seven years, I'd missed my sister's voice.
Now it was one of the few things helping me breathe.
We spent the afternoon talking.
Not just about Derek.
About our childhood.
Our mother.
The years we'd lost.
Patricia admitted she'd wanted to call me many times.
But pride had stopped her.
I confessed the same thing.
"We wasted so much time," I whispered.
She nodded.
"Then let's not waste any more."
I hugged her.
And for the first time, I felt forgiveness arriving somewhere I hadn't expected it.
Not for Derek.
Not yet.
But for the sister I'd let slip away.
Later that afternoon, Marcus returned from speaking with Daniel and Isaiah.
He looked tired.
I asked whether he'd heard anything new.
He nodded.
"The investigators are following up on the business partner's statement."
"Does that mean they'll find the box?"
"I hope so."
He sat across from me.
"Miss Evelyn, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you want to see the house again?"
My heart jumped.
"Can I?"
"Naomi says arrangements are being made for lawful access. She wants to know whether you're ready."
I looked toward the window.
The thought of returning frightened me.
I pictured Derek standing in the doorway.
His hand gripping my wrist.
My suitcase falling onto the porch.
But I also remembered Samuel.
The kitchen where he danced with me.
The garden where he grew tomatoes.
The bedroom where we said good night for forty-six years.
That was my home.
Not Derek's.
Mine.
I turned back.
"Yes."
Marcus smiled.
"Then we'll make sure you have support."
Two days later, I stood in front of the house.
My knees trembled.
Patricia stood on one side.
Marcus stood on the other.
Naomi waited near the front steps with the authorized people handling access.
The locks had been addressed through the proper legal process.
Derek was no longer occupying the property under the temporary arrangements.
I stared at the front door.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
Then Patricia whispered, "You've got this, Evie."
I lifted my chin.
I took one step.
Then another.
My walker rolled over the porch.
I reached the doorway.
And walked inside.
The living room looked different.
Furniture had been moved.
Drawers were open.
Several photographs were missing.
But the house was still standing.
I touched the wall.
"Samuel," I whispered.
Marcus remained a respectful distance behind me.
I walked toward the kitchen.
The old wooden table was still there.
One chair was missing.
The curtains had been pulled down.
But on the windowsill stood Samuel's little ceramic bird.
He'd bought it for me at a roadside market forty years earlier.
I picked it up.
A sob escaped my throat.
Patricia wrapped an arm around me.
"He's still here, Evie."
I nodded.
Not literally.
But in every memory.
Every corner.
Every little thing he'd chosen because he thought it would make me smile.
We walked into the garage next.
The sight nearly broke me.
Tools were missing.
Shelves had been emptied.
The workbench was scratched.
But Samuel's name was still painted above the door.
CARTER'S AUTO AND RECOVERY.
I reached up and touched the lettering.
Marcus stood beside me.
"This place changed my life."
I looked at him.
He smiled sadly.
"Your husband taught me more than how to fix an engine."
I laughed through tears.
"He did love giving advice."
Marcus nodded.
"He sure did."
Then Naomi approached.
"Mrs. Carter, there's something else you should see."
She handed me a document.
It was a copy of an attempted property transfer.
Derek had submitted it as part of his claim.
The signature looked like mine.
But it wasn't.
I stared at the page.
"He forged this."
Naomi spoke carefully.
"That's one of the issues under investigation."
I looked up.
"Can he still take the house?"
"The verified records strongly support your ownership, and we're working to protect it through the court."
I nodded.
Then I looked around the garage.
For the first time, fear began turning into anger.
Not wild anger.
Not the kind that makes people reckless.
A quiet certainty.
Derek had spent months telling me I was helpless.
But I was standing in my own garage.
With the deed in my handbag.
My sister beside me.
A lawyer protecting my rights.
And a man whose life Samuel had once saved.
I wasn't helpless.
I had simply been alone too long.
As we prepared to leave, Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
Then his expression changed.
"Where?"
He listened.
"Are you sure?"
Another pause.
Then he looked at Naomi.
"They found the box."
My knees weakened.
Naomi reached for the phone.
"Where was it?"
Marcus answered quietly.
"In a storage unit Derek rented under another name."
I covered my mouth.
"Is everything inside?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Investigators are checking."
I gripped the edge of my walker.
May you like
Then he added something that made the entire garage fall silent.
"They found the recorder too."
