Chapter 2
Marcus released Vanessa's wrist and stumbled backward.
"No."
His voice was barely audible.
On the laptop screen stood a woman wearing a dark green dress.
Her hair was pulled into a neat bun.
She carried a designer handbag I recognized immediately.
It belonged to my younger sister, Patricia.
My only surviving sibling.
Marcus's beloved aunt.
The woman who had helped raise him after my wife died.
I watched my son's expression collapse.
"Aunt Patricia?"
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I paused the recording.
The living room fell silent.
For a moment, the only sound was the refrigerator humming in the nearby kitchen.
Marcus stared at the frozen image.
Then he looked at me.
"What is Aunt Patricia doing here?"
I lowered myself into the armchair.
My cheek still burned where he'd struck me.
"That's what I've been trying to understand."
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
"This is being taken out of context."
I turned toward her.
"Then explain the context."
She looked at Marcus.
"Baby, your father has been trying to turn you against me since we got married."
Marcus didn't answer.
I noticed his hands were shaking.
"Vanessa," he said quietly, "why were you taking pictures of Dad's deed?"
She swallowed.
"Patricia asked me to."
"Why?"
"Because she said there was a problem with the property."
I leaned forward.
"What problem?"
Vanessa looked away.
"I don't know."
I pressed play.
Patricia walked into the living room and placed her handbag on the marble coffee table.
Vanessa approached her.
"I got everything," Vanessa said on the recording.
Patricia smiled.
"Good. Once Arthur is out, we can finish the transfer."
Vanessa glanced toward the staircase.
"What if Marcus refuses?"
Patricia laughed.
"He won't. That boy has spent his whole life trying to protect the women he loves."
My chest tightened.
I remembered Patricia comforting Marcus after his mother's funeral.
She had held him when he cried.
She had helped me pack his lunches.
She had attended his school plays.
And now she was using that history against him.
On the recording, Vanessa pulled out her phone.
"Marcus already believes Arthur is controlling."
Patricia nodded.
"Then give him a reason to act."
I paused the video.
Marcus looked physically ill.
He sat on the sofa and covered his face.
I wanted to go to him.
Every instinct in my body told me to comfort my son.
But my cheek was still burning.
And I couldn't ignore what he'd done.
Vanessa moved toward him.
"Marcus, baby, please listen."
He looked up.
"Don't touch me."
She stopped.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in her eyes.
"Marcus—"
"You made me hit my father."
I spoke before she could answer.
"No, Marcus."
He turned toward me.
I swallowed.
"She lied to you. But you chose to hit me."
His face crumpled.
"Dad..."
I raised my hand.
"Not yet."
The room went silent again.
I needed him to understand that discovering Vanessa's lies didn't erase his responsibility.
He was thirty-three years old.
A grown man.
And he had struck his father without asking a single question.
I looked at Vanessa.
"Who told you I would sign over the house?"
She stared at the floor.
"Nobody."
I reached for the laptop.
"Then let's continue."
She rushed toward the door.
Marcus stood.
"Where are you going?"
"I need some air."
He stepped aside but spoke firmly.
"Don't leave with any documents or anything from Dad's office."
She glared at him.
"You can't control me!"
"No," he answered. "But I'm not covering for you anymore."
She looked toward me.
For a moment, her hatred was unmistakable.
Then she ran upstairs.
I heard the bedroom door slam.
Marcus and I were alone.
He stared at the laptop.
Then he whispered, "How long have you known?"
"That something was wrong? About three months."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked at him.
"I tried."
He frowned.
"When?"
"Three weeks ago, when I asked why Vanessa wanted copies of the deed."
He closed his eyes.
I continued.
"You told me I was being suspicious."
He rubbed his forehead.
"And last month, when I asked why Patricia kept visiting while I was away."
His voice cracked.
"I told you to stop questioning my wife."
I nodded.
"Yes."
Marcus began crying.
I looked away.
Not because I didn't care.
Because I was afraid that if I watched him cry, I'd forgive everything before either of us had faced the truth.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
I took a slow breath.
"I believe you're sorry."
He looked up hopefully.
"But I need time."
His face fell.
"I understand."
I wasn't sure he did.
Not yet.
I returned to the recording.
The next clip showed Patricia opening a folder.
Inside were documents bearing my name.
I leaned closer.
I recognized the heading.
Bennett Family Property Trust.
My stomach tightened.
I had established that trust years earlier to simplify inheritance planning and protect the house for Marcus after my death.
Patricia had helped me find an attorney.
I'd trusted her advice.
On the recording, she told Vanessa that the existing documents would make the property difficult to transfer.
Vanessa frowned.
"Then how do we change them?"
Patricia smiled.
"First, Arthur has to be removed from the house."
Marcus stared at the screen.
"What does that mean?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know yet."
Then Patricia said something that made my blood turn cold.
"The doctor already signed the preliminary paperwork."
Vanessa looked nervous.
"Are you sure Arthur won't find out?"
Patricia laughed softly.
"By the time he does, it'll be too late."
I paused the recording.
Marcus turned toward me.
"Dad, what doctor?"
I stared at the screen.
My sister had been arranging medical appointments for me for several months.
She claimed she was worried about my memory.
She insisted I was becoming forgetful.
She even suggested I needed help managing my finances.
Until that moment, I'd believed she was simply overprotective.
Now I understood.
She wasn't trying to help me.
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She was building a case that I couldn't manage my own life.
And if she succeeded, she might gain control of everything I owned.
