Chapter 4
I didn't understand how somebody could use a dead mother's letters as a bargaining chip.
The wooden box had belonged to my mother, Danielle.
It was small, painted white, with tiny blue flowers around the lid.
Inside were birthday cards, photographs, and letters she had written while she was receiving cancer treatment.
Some were addressed to me for birthdays she knew she might never see.
My father gave me one each year.
I read the older ones whenever I missed her.
Now the box was gone.
And Vanessa knew exactly how much it meant to me.
I sat on the floor beside my empty dresser.
“Dad, please get it back.”
He knelt beside me.
“I will do everything I can.”
My voice broke.
“What if she destroys it?”
His eyes filled.
“I know you're scared.”
He took my hand.
“But we're going to handle this carefully.”
Grandma appeared in the doorway.
She looked at the scattered clothes.
Her face hardened.
“What happened?”
Dad showed her the message.
Grandma read it twice.
Then she whispered, “This is cruel.”
I began crying.
Dad helped me stand.
“Come downstairs with Grandma.”
I shook my head.
“I don't want anyone touching my room.”
“Okay.”
He looked around.
“Then we'll leave everything exactly as it is for now.”
Grandma took me downstairs.
She made warm oatmeal and sliced bananas.
I ate slowly while Dad called someone from the living room.
Later, I learned he had contacted a family-law attorney named Renee Carter.
He also documented the missing belongings and Vanessa's message.
The attorney told him not to argue with Vanessa or make promises about money in exchange for the box.
Instead, she advised him to preserve the messages and pursue the return of my belongings through appropriate channels.
Dad listened.
I could tell he was angry.
But he wasn't shouting.
That was new.
My father usually tried to solve family problems by calming everyone down.
He hated conflict.
Vanessa knew that.
She often cried whenever Dad questioned her.
Then he would apologize for upsetting her.
Now he seemed different.
He wasn't trying to make Vanessa happy.
He was trying to keep me safe.
That afternoon, Brielle and Jordan returned home with their aunt.
Their mother had gone to stay with a friend.
Brielle stood awkwardly in the hallway.
Jordan looked frightened.
Dad asked them to sit in the living room.
I stayed beside Grandma.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Dad said, “I need to understand what has been happening in this house.”
Brielle stared at her shoes.
Jordan picked at the edge of his sleeve.
Dad continued.
“I'm not asking either of you to take sides. I only want the truth.”
Brielle began crying.
I had never seen her cry in front of adults.
“Mom told us not to interfere.”
Dad's expression softened.
“Interfere with what?”
“With Nia.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Brielle wiped her cheeks.
“She said Nia needed to learn that she wasn't special.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Jordan suddenly spoke.
“She said Nia got everything because her mom died.”
The words hit me so hard that I stopped breathing.
My mother had died.
I would have given anything to have her back.
And Vanessa had told her children that my grief was some kind of advantage.
Grandma reached for my hand.
Dad looked devastated.
“Did your mother say that?”
Jordan nodded.
Brielle whispered, “She said Nia made you feel guilty, so you bought her things.”
I stared at my hands.
I remembered the blue sweater Dad bought me for my birthday.
The art supplies he brought home when I won a school contest.
The small silver bracelet he gave me because it reminded him of Mom.
I had treasured those gifts.
Now I wondered whether Vanessa had hated me every time I smiled.
Dad leaned forward.
“Brielle, did you ever see your mother take Nia's belongings?”
She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“She took the necklace.”
My head snapped up.
“Where is it?”
Brielle looked toward the stairs.
“In her jewelry drawer.”
My heart pounded.
Dad stood.
Then Brielle quickly added, “There's something else.”
Everyone froze.
She looked at me.
“Mom told me to wear it to school once.”
I stared at her.
“Did you?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“No. I knew it was yours.”
For the first time, I looked at Brielle differently.
She had never defended me openly.
But perhaps she had been frightened too.
Dad thanked her for telling the truth.
Then he asked Grandma to stay with us while he contacted Renee about safely retrieving my belongings.
That evening, with advice about documenting and handling property in the shared home, Dad checked the places Brielle had identified.
He found my necklace inside Vanessa's jewelry drawer.
When he brought it downstairs, I ran toward him.
The silver heart rested in his palm.
I took it carefully.
My fingers trembled as I opened the tiny locket.
Mom's photograph was still inside.
I burst into tears.
Dad wrapped his arms around me.
“I've got you.”
I held the necklace against my chest.
For the first time in weeks, I felt a tiny piece of my mother return.
But the wooden box was still missing.
And Vanessa wasn't finished.
The next morning, my father received another message.
This time, Vanessa demanded access to money from their joint account.
She claimed she had paid for household expenses and deserved compensation.
Dad forwarded the message to Renee.
Then he received a call from our bank.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when he answered.
At first, he sounded confused.
Then his face changed.
“What withdrawal?”
He stood.
“When did that happen?”
Grandma looked at him.
Dad listened silently.
Then he said, “Please send me the records.”
When he ended the call, he looked toward the stairs.
I felt nervous.
“Dad?”
He forced a smile.
“Everything is okay, sweetheart.”
But I knew something was wrong.
Later that afternoon, I overheard him speaking to Grandma.
Vanessa had transferred a large amount of money from a joint account before leaving.
Dad sounded stunned.
“That account was supposed to cover the children's expenses.”
Grandma asked how much was missing.
Dad answered quietly.
“Almost sixty thousand dollars.”
My stomach dropped.
Then Grandma asked the question that made me freeze.
“Marcus, does she also have access to the money Danielle left for Nia?”
For a long moment, Dad said nothing.
Then I heard his footsteps heading toward his office.
May you like
And suddenly, I was afraid Vanessa hadn't only taken my mother's letters.
She might have taken the future my mother had tried to leave me.
