He had been waiting for me.
In the master bedroom, I found one thing. A framed photograph on the windowsill.
Our wedding day. 1983.
The same photo I packed in my suitcase. He had a copy made.
I sat on the floor and cried until my ribs hurt.
That night, back in Room 12, my phone rang.
Robert again.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Vanessa’s lawyer sent a letter. About the ring and about other things. They’re saying you’re hiding assets.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“She thinks Dad had money you’re not disclosing. She wants to audit the estate.”
I kept my voice steady. “There’s nothing to audit. Your father left everything to you. I signed the papers.”
“I know, but Mom, just give her the ring. Please. She’s making my life hell.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“She threw me out, Robert. She called me garbage, and you stood there.”
Silence.
“I didn’t know she’d—”
“Yes, you did.”
I hung up.
Two hours later, a text from Vanessa.
We know about the bank visit. Don’t think you’re smart. We have access to everything.
But they didn’t. Daniel had made sure of that.
