Chapter 6
I sat in my office long after Rebecca ended the call.
The room felt strangely unfamiliar.
The photographs on my desk.
The furniture Vanessa had selected.
The expensive curtains she'd insisted on buying.
Everything suddenly carried a different meaning.
Had she chosen those things because she wanted a home with me?
Or because she wanted to replace the woman who had lived here before her?
I looked at Danielle's photograph.
She was smiling beside Maya's crib.
Her face was tired.
But her eyes were bright.
I remembered the afternoon I took that picture.
Danielle had just finished chemotherapy.
She was weak.
But she'd insisted on decorating Maya's nursery herself.
She chose pale-yellow curtains.
White furniture.
And a small mural of stars above the crib.
“Every child deserves a sky full of possibilities,” she'd told me.
I smiled through tears.
Then I remembered Vanessa demanding that we repaint Maya's room.
She said yellow was childish.
She wanted everything replaced.
I'd agreed.
I thought we were simply updating the house.
Now I wondered whether every change had been part of an effort to erase Danielle.
My phone rang.
Camille.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Marcus, I received the information you forwarded from Rebecca Ellis.”
I sat upright.
“Can we verify it?”
“We're checking employment records and contacting people who worked with Danielle.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Camille paused.
“There's something else.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“Vanessa's attorney contacted us.”
I closed my eyes.
“What does she want?”
“A financial settlement.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Camille continued.
“She is seeking substantial marital assets and has raised allegations about your treatment of her.”
I stared at the wall.
“What allegations?”
“She claims you threatened her during the argument and forced her from the residence.”
My stomach turned.
“I didn't threaten her.”
“I understand.”
“She demanded that I choose between her and my daughter.”
Camille's voice remained calm.
“We'll document your account and preserve any available evidence.”
I remembered the security cameras.
Our front entrance had one.
So did the living room.
I'd installed them after a burglary in the neighborhood.
I sat upright.
“Camille, we have cameras.”
She paused.
“Where?”
“Living room and entrance.”
“Do they record audio?”
“Yes.”
There was a brief silence.
Then Camille said, “Preserve the original footage immediately.”
My heart raced.
I opened the security application.
The recording from that morning was still available.
I watched.
There was Vanessa.
Dragging Maya's suitcase.
My daughter crying.
Vanessa jerking the handle.
Then me entering.
I heard every word.
Pack your things.
You're leaving today.
She's old enough to leave.
Someone else's child.
Choose her or me.
My hands trembled.
The recording was worse than I remembered.
Because I could now see what happened before I entered.
Vanessa had been shouting at Maya for nearly twenty minutes.
She'd accused her of stealing food.
Called her ungrateful.
Told her Danielle had abandoned her.
Then she'd dragged the suitcase from the hallway closet.
Maya had begged her to stop.
Vanessa ignored her.
I watched my daughter back away.
Her face was wet with tears.
I felt sick.
I saved the original footage through the security system's export process and arranged for proper preservation.
Then I sent Camille the details.
She called me immediately.
“Marcus, this is important evidence.”
I swallowed.
“Can it help protect Maya?”
“Yes. We'll discuss it with your family-law attorney and determine the appropriate next steps.”
I closed my eyes.
Finally.
Something that couldn't be twisted into Vanessa's version of events.
That evening, I sat with Maya.
She was doing homework at the dining table.
Renee was helping her with algebra.
I watched them for a moment.
Maya was smiling.
Not constantly.
Not completely.
But enough that I could see pieces of my daughter returning.
I sat beside her.
“Hey, baby girl.”
She looked up.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“How was counseling today?”
She shrugged.
“Okay.”
I smiled.
“Want to talk about it?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Dr. Morris said something.”
“What?”
“That I don't have to believe every mean thing someone says about me.”
My throat tightened.
I nodded.
“She's right.”
Maya looked down.
“She said sometimes people say hurtful things because they want control.”
I felt tears rise.
“That's true too.”
She played with the edge of her sweater.
Then whispered, “Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Was Mom really proud of me?”
My heart broke.
I moved closer.
“Every day she was alive.”
Maya's eyes filled.
“Even when I was a baby?”
I smiled through tears.
“Especially then.”
She looked at me.
“Vanessa said Mom regretted having me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“Maya, your mother fought so hard to stay with you.”
Tears ran down her face.
I continued.
“She loved you more than anything in this world.”
Maya began crying.
I held her.
Then I remembered something.
Danielle had recorded a message for Maya's fifteenth birthday.
I'd given it to her months earlier.
But perhaps she hadn't listened.
I gently pulled back.
“Sweetheart, do you still have your birthday recording?”
She nodded.
“In my room.”
“Would you like to listen together?”
She hesitated.
Then smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
We went upstairs.
She retrieved a small flash drive from her desk.
I connected it to her laptop.
The video opened.
Danielle appeared on the screen.
She was sitting beside a window.
Her hair was covered with a soft scarf.
Her smile was weak.
But beautiful.
“Happy fifteenth birthday, my sweet Maya.”
My daughter gasped softly.
I felt tears spill down my cheeks.
Danielle continued.
“I wish I could see the young woman you're becoming.”
Her voice trembled.
“But I know something about you already.”
She smiled.
“You are loved.”
Maya began crying.
Danielle continued.
“You were wanted before you were born.”
I covered my mouth.
“You were loved before I ever held you.”
Maya gripped my hand.
“And nothing anyone says will ever change that.”
We sat together, crying.
Then Danielle smiled again.
“Be brave, sweetheart. Be kind. And never let anyone make you believe you don't deserve happiness.”
The recording ended.
Maya leaned against me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“I think Mom knew I'd need to hear that.”
I kissed her forehead.
“I think she did too.”
For the first time in months, Maya smiled without fear.
But later that night, another message arrived.
This one came from Vanessa's attorney.
A formal demand for the return of certain property.
The list included jewelry.
Clothing.
Personal documents.
And a wooden memory box.
Danielle's memory box.
I stared at the page.
Vanessa was claiming the box belonged to her.
The same box containing my dead wife's letters.
The same box she'd already taken items from.
I called Camille.
“She's trying to claim Danielle's things.”
Camille sounded serious.
“We'll dispute anything that isn't legally hers.”
I swallowed.
Then asked the question that had been growing inside me all day.
“Camille, if Vanessa knew Danielle before we met, could she have planned this marriage?”
She paused.
“That would require evidence.”
I nodded.
“But it's possible?”
“It's something we can investigate.”
After the call, I opened an old email archive from Danielle's business.
I hadn't looked at it in years.
I searched the name Vanessa Price.
Several messages appeared.
One was dated shortly before Danielle became seriously ill.
The subject line made my blood run cold.
FINAL WARNING — UNAUTHORIZED CLIENT PAYMENTS.
I opened it.
Danielle had written to Vanessa.
The message demanded an explanation for missing funds.
At the bottom, Danielle had added something that made me freeze.
If you continue contacting my husband or attempting to involve my family, I will seek legal protection.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Vanessa had been contacting me before Danielle died.
And I had no memory of it.
