Chapter 4
I watched the porch footage three times.
Each time, I hoped I was misunderstanding it.
I wasn’t.
Eric Dalton had been coming to my home behind my back.
Vanessa had never mentioned it.
And those envelopes bothered me.
At 9:15 that morning, I called my attorney.
Rachel Kim had handled my will after Leah died.
She knew everything about Noah’s trust.
She also knew Vanessa.
When I told her what I had discovered, she became quiet.
“Marcus, do not confront either of them.”
“Why?”
“Because if financial documents are involved, I want copies before anyone has time to destroy anything.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of documents?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I sent her screenshots from the porch camera.
She recognized Eric immediately.
“He contacted my office.”
I stood.
“When?”
“About two months ago.”
“Why?”
“He said he was helping you restructure your estate.”
My blood went cold.
“I never asked him to do that.”
“I know.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I would need instructions directly from you.”
I began pacing.
“Did he ask about Noah?”
Rachel paused.
“Yes.”
My steps stopped.
“What?”
“He asked whether Noah’s trust could be modified before he turned eighteen.”
I gripped the phone.
“And?”
“I told him no details without your authorization.”
“Did he say why?”
“He claimed it was routine planning.”
Nothing about this felt routine anymore.
Rachel continued.
“Marcus, is your original estate binder still in the safe?”
“Yes.”
“Check it.”
I went straight to my bedroom.
The safe was inside my closet.
I entered the code.
The door opened.
Documents.
Passports.
Leah’s letters.
Insurance paperwork.
No estate binder.
I searched twice.
Then a third time.
“It’s gone.”
Rachel swore under her breath.
“Change the safe code.”
I did it immediately.
“What was in that binder?”
“Copies of your will, trust documents, property deed and insurance information.”
My knees weakened.
“Could Vanessa do anything with copies?”
“Possibly attempt fraud. But she cannot legally rewrite your estate without you.”
Attempt fraud.
Those words stayed in my head.
Noah appeared in the doorway.
He wore dinosaur pajamas and held his inhaler.
I forced my face calm.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Aunt Rachel.”
He knew her from family cookouts.
“Is she mad?”
“No.”
He stepped inside.
“Are you?”
I looked at him.
“Not at you.”
That had become a necessary sentence in our house.
I hated that.
I ended the call after Rachel promised to start checking filings and financial records.
Then I made pancakes.
Noah ate two bites.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Vanessa coming back?”
The question was careful.
“No.”
He looked down.
“Ever?”
“Not to live here.”
His shoulders relaxed.
That answer told me everything.
“You don’t have to be scared of saying you’re relieved.”
He looked guilty anyway.
“She used to be nice.”
“I know.”
“She bought me that blue bike.”
“I remember.”
“And she made cupcakes.”
“Yes.”
“So why did she get mean?”
I had no answer a six-year-old should have to carry.
“Sometimes people can do nice things and still make harmful choices.”
He frowned.
“Was she pretending?”
“Maybe sometimes.”
He poked his pancake.
“Did she marry you because of me?”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes stayed on the plate.
“She said she wished it was just you and her.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“A bunch of times.”
I sat beside him.
“Anything else?”
“She said if I lived with Grandma, you’d be happier.”
My hands curled into fists under the table.
Grandma was Leah’s mother, Patricia.
She adored Noah.
Vanessa knew that.
Had she been trying to push him out?
“Did she ever ask if you wanted to live with Grandma?”
He nodded.
“She said they had a big backyard.”
I fought to keep my expression neutral.
“And what did you say?”
“I said I wanted to live with you.”
He looked at me like he worried that answer might be wrong.
I kissed his forehead.
“That’s where you’re staying.”
At noon, Patricia arrived.
I had called her because I needed someone Noah trusted while I dealt with police and attorneys.
The moment she stepped inside, Noah ran into her arms.
She held him so tightly he squealed.
“My baby.”
I watched them and felt relief.
Then Patricia looked at me.
One look at my face and she knew.
“How bad?”
“Worse than I thought.”
We talked privately while Noah watched cartoons.
I showed her the camera footage.
Patricia covered her mouth.
When Vanessa took the inhaler from Noah, she began crying.
“I knew something was wrong.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“She called me.”
“Vanessa?”
“Three weeks ago.”
My body tensed.
“What did she want?”
“She asked whether I would consider taking Noah for a while.”
I stared at her.
“She did what?”
“She said your marriage was under stress because of his medical problems.”
I felt like I had been punched.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I asked her if you knew she was calling. She said yes.”
“I didn’t.”
Patricia looked sick.
“She told me you were embarrassed to ask.”
I walked toward the window.
Every piece fit.
Vanessa had been creating a story.
Noah was difficult.
Noah was careless.
Noah was sick too often.
Noah needed to live somewhere else.
“Marcus.”
Patricia’s voice trembled.
“There’s more.”
I turned.
“She asked me something strange.”
“What?”
“She wanted to know whether Noah would still inherit Leah’s trust if he lived with me permanently.”
I stopped moving.
“When?”
“The same conversation.”
“Exactly what did she say?”
Patricia thought.
“She said, ‘If custody changed, would the money follow him?’”
The room suddenly felt too small.
I called Rachel again.
She listened.
Then she said something that chilled me.
“If Vanessa was trying to remove Noah from your household while also changing your financial plans, we may be looking at more than resentment.”
My phone beeped.
An email.
Unknown sender.
Subject:
YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT YOUR WIFE SIGNED.
There was one attachment.
A scanned document.
I opened it.
At the top were the words:
PETITION FOR TEMPORARY GUARDIANSHIP.
Noah’s name was printed underneath.
May you like
And beside the signature line for “Father/Legal Guardian” was my name.
Except I had never signed it.
