Chapter 3
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father kneeling beside Bruno's food bowl.
Then I heard Claire's warning.
Your wife was trying to make everyone believe he was losing his mind.
At six the next morning, I called her back.
She answered immediately.
"Mr. Williams?"
"Call me Marcus. I need to know everything."
"I'd rather meet in person."
"Where?"
"There's a coffee shop near Memorial Hospital. Eight o'clock."
"I'll be there."
Before leaving, I checked on Dad.
He was sitting at the edge of his bed, struggling with the buttons on his shirt.
I helped him.
He looked embarrassed.
"I used to button your shirts before school."
I smiled painfully.
"Guess it's my turn."
He touched my cheek.
"You turned out better than I deserved."
I shook my head.
"No, Dad. You deserved a son who noticed sooner."
He said nothing.
That silence followed me all the way to the coffee shop.
Claire was waiting in a corner booth.
She was a middle-aged Black woman with tired eyes and a thick folder beside her coffee.
When I approached, she stood.
"Marcus. I'm sorry we're meeting like this."
I sat across from her.
"Tell me what happened."
She opened the folder.
"Your father hired our home-care agency after he started having trouble with his knees. I visited twice a week."
I nodded.
I remembered Vanessa telling me the agency was too expensive.
She claimed Dad didn't need professional help.
Claire slid a photograph toward me.
It showed my father's arm.
There were bruises around his wrist.
I recognized them.
"When was this taken?"
"Seven weeks ago."
I swallowed.
"Did he tell you what happened?"
"He said someone grabbed him."
"Vanessa."
Claire looked at me carefully.
"Your father was afraid to name her. But I witnessed her pull him away from the telephone."
I stared at the picture.
"Why didn't you contact me?"
"I tried."
She placed a printed call log on the table.
Four calls.
Three voicemails.
One text message.
All sent to my number.
"I never received these."
"Your wife told me you wanted all communication through her."
My mouth went dry.
I remembered Vanessa borrowing my phone one evening.
She said she needed to update our shared calendar.
I wondered what else she'd changed.
Claire opened another page.
"Your father scored normally on the cognitive screening our agency arranged."
I looked up.
"Normally?"
"He knew the date, his medications, his finances, his medical history. He had some age-related forgetfulness, but nothing close to what your wife was claiming."
I sat back.
Vanessa had repeatedly told me Dad was becoming confused.
She said he wandered through the house at night.
She said he'd accused her of stealing things.
She said he'd misplaced money and forgotten conversations.
I'd believed her.
Because she'd been my wife for twelve years.
Claire pushed a small flash drive across the table.
"This is the recording."
"What am I going to hear?"
Her eyes filled.
"Something I wish I'd stopped sooner."
I borrowed her laptop.
The video began with a view of our kitchen.
Claire had placed her phone on the counter while preparing Dad's medication.
Vanessa entered.
My father was sitting at the breakfast bar.
I heard Vanessa say, "Where's the paper Arthur?"
Dad answered, "I told you, I won't sign it."
She leaned over him.
"Then I'll keep telling Marcus you're getting worse."
He shook his head.
"Please don't lie about me."
Vanessa laughed.
"Who's he going to believe? His wife or an old man who can't remember where he put his glasses?"
I stopped the recording.
My hands were shaking.
"What paper?"
Claire hesitated.
"Your father said she wanted him to sign something about his property rights."
I looked at the flash drive.
"Is there more?"
"Yes."
I pressed play.
Dad's voice sounded frightened.
"Evelyn made me promise I'd protect our son."
Vanessa snapped, "Evelyn's dead, Arthur. Stop hiding behind her."
My stomach twisted.
Then Vanessa stepped closer.
"If you won't cooperate, I'll make sure you end up somewhere Marcus won't have to hear your complaints."
I closed the laptop.
I couldn't watch another second.
Claire reached across the table.
"Marcus, I reported my concerns to the agency. They recommended notifying Adult Protective Services."
"Did they?"
"An initial report was made. Your wife then claimed your father had dismissed us and refused further visits."
I covered my face.
My father had been trapped.
And I had spent those weeks working overtime because Vanessa insisted we needed more money.
"There's something else," Claire said.
I lowered my hands.
"She told me she was speaking with an attorney about obtaining authority over your father's affairs."
I stared at her.
"What kind of authority?"
"Financial and medical."
I immediately thought of the family trust.
Vanessa wanted Dad declared incapable of managing his own affairs.
If she could control him, maybe she could pressure him into surrendering his rights.
I thanked Claire and drove straight home.
Dad was in the kitchen making toast.
Bruno lay by his feet.
For the first time in weeks, Dad looked relaxed.
"Morning, son."
I hugged him.
He laughed softly.
"What's gotten into you?"
I held him a little tighter.
"I spoke with Claire."
His smile disappeared.
"She told you?"
"Some of it."
He lowered his eyes.
"Son, I should have told you."
"Why didn't you?"
He sat.
"Because after your mother died, you stopped smiling for a long time."
I stared at him.
"You were worried about me?"
"You'd already lost one parent. I didn't want to make you feel like your family was falling apart."
Tears burned my eyes.
"Dad, family isn't something you're supposed to suffer for in silence."
He nodded slowly.
Then he looked toward the hallway.
"Vanessa wanted more than my signature."
"What do you mean?"
"She kept asking where your mother kept the other documents."
"What other documents?"
Dad opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, the front doorbell rang.
I checked the security monitor.
Vanessa stood outside beside her sister, Denise.
Both wore expensive clothes.
Both looked furious.
Vanessa held a folder.
I opened the door but remained in the doorway.
"What do you want?"
Vanessa pushed her sunglasses onto her head.
"We need to settle this like adults."
Denise stepped forward.
"Marcus, you've embarrassed my sister enough."
I looked at the folder.
"What's that?"
Vanessa smiled.
"Legal paperwork."
I didn't move.
She pulled out a document and held it toward me.
"I spoke with an attorney. Until our marriage and property issues are resolved, you cannot just exclude me from the house."
I nodded.
"Fine. We'll handle everything legally."
Then Denise said something strange.
"Arthur needs to stop making trouble before this gets worse."
My father appeared behind me.
He heard her.
His face changed.
"Denise," he whispered.
She froze.
I looked between them.
"You two know each other?"
Vanessa grabbed her sister's arm.
"Of course they know each other. They're family."
Dad shook his head.
"No, Marcus."
He pointed at Denise.
"That's the woman who came here with the papers."
The silence felt enormous.
"What papers?" I demanded.
Dad's voice trembled.
"The papers she said would put me in a nursing home."
May you like
Denise took a step backward.
And Vanessa whispered, "Arthur, you need to stop talking."
