Chapter 6: The Papers in Her Bedroom
I read the handwritten note three more times.
*April 15 — Final transfer.*
For several minutes, I sat at Renee's dining table without saying anything.
My son was beside me, carefully eating a bowl of strawberries. He had asked permission before taking the second handful.
That small detail hurt more than I could explain.
A ten-year-old boy shouldn't have to ask permission to eat strawberries in his father's house.
Renee placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Marcus, what are you going to do?""
I folded the paper.
"Find out what happens on April 15.""
"Are you going to confront Vanessa?""
"Not yet.""
I looked at Jordan.
He was watching me.
"Buddy, I need you to understand something. Whatever your stepmother has planned, it isn't your responsibility to stop her.""
"But what if she takes the house?""
"Then we'll find somewhere else.""
"What if she takes our money?""
"We'll work it out.""
"What if she sends Caleb and Mia away?""
I paused.
That question told me exactly how much my son cared about those children, even after everything that had happened.
"Nobody is going to punish them for what an adult has done.""
Jordan nodded.
Then he returned to his strawberries.
I called my attorney, Daniel Brooks, and arranged an emergency appointment for the following morning.
I sent him photographs of the documents, the bank statements, and the handwritten note.
His response came twenty minutes later.
Marcus, preserve everything. Do not sign anything. Do not access any private accounts that aren't yours. We need to determine the legal ownership of the funds and the nature of the proposed transfer.
Then he added:
I strongly recommend that you avoid confronting Vanessa until we've reviewed the documents.
I agreed.
That evening, I returned home alone.
Vanessa was sitting on the living room sofa, scrolling through her phone.
She looked up.
"Where are the children?""
"With Renee.""
"You're keeping my children from me?""
"They're safe.""
She placed her phone on the coffee table.
"Marcus, this has gone far enough.""
I took off my jacket.
"Then let's talk about April 15.""
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"What about it?""
I watched her carefully.
"You tell me.""
She stood.
"I have no idea what you're talking about.""
I took the folded note from my pocket and placed it on the coffee table.
Her eyes moved toward it.
For the first time that evening, she looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"Where did you get that?""
"From Jordan.""
She picked it up.
Then she laughed.
"He's been going through my things?""
"That's what you're concerned about?""
"Of course. He's invading my privacy.""
I stepped closer.
"Why is there a final transfer scheduled for April 15?""
Vanessa put the paper down.
"Marcus, you're becoming paranoid.""
"What's being transferred?""
"Nothing.""
"Then why write it down?""
She crossed her arms.
"Maybe you should spend less time listening to your son and more time considering what your marriage needs.""
I stared at her.
"Did you create Reed Family Services?""
Her silence lasted two seconds too long.
Then she said, "It's a small business.""
"Using our family name?""
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't need your permission to start a business.""
"Did you transfer Jordan's savings into it?""
Her expression hardened.
"Those were household expenses.""
"His education money?""
"He doesn't need college money when his own father can't manage his finances.""
I took a slow breath.
"That money wasn't yours.""
Vanessa walked toward the stairs.
"You're making accusations you'll regret.""
I didn't follow her.
Instead, I went into my study and called Daniel Brooks again.
The next morning, I sat across from him in his office.
He examined the documents carefully.
"The account authorization is concerning," he said.
"If your signature was forged, the financial institution will need to investigate that.""
"What about the company?""
"We'll need its filings, ownership information, and transaction history.""
I showed him the note.
He leaned back.
"April 15 is six days away. Do you know what kind of transfer she intends to make?""
"No.""
"Then we need to find out without compromising evidence.""
He instructed me to obtain copies of records I was legally entitled to access, secure my personal accounts, and document every communication.
He also recommended that I consult the appropriate authorities regarding the children's treatment.
I agreed.
Before leaving, I asked him one final question.
"Can she take my house?""
"That depends on ownership, existing agreements, and what these documents actually are. Don't assume the handwritten note gives her any legal power.""
I nodded.
When I returned to the construction site, an email from Vanessa appeared.
*Subject: Family Meeting*
We need to discuss the future of this household. I've made arrangements to bring someone over tomorrow evening. Please don't make this difficult.
I read it twice.
Then I forwarded it to Daniel.
That evening, Renee brought the children home for dinner.
Jordan looked healthier already.
He had eaten breakfast, lunch, and an afternoon snack without asking permission.
Mia ran toward me when she entered.
"Dad!""
I hugged her.
"How was your day, sweetheart?""
"Good. Aunt Renee made pancakes.""
Caleb stood behind her.
He looked uncomfortable.
"Can I talk to you?""
We went into the kitchen.
He lowered his voice.
"Mom called me.""
"What did she say?""
"She asked if I told you about the papers.""
I remained quiet.
Caleb continued.
"She said I shouldn't believe everything Jordan tells me.""
"Did she say anything else?""
He nodded.
"She told me that if I wanted to stay with her, I needed to remember whose side I was on.""
I crouched slightly.
"Caleb, you don't have to choose sides.""
He looked at me.
"She said you'd make us go away.""
"I won't punish you for telling the truth.""
He swallowed.
"Can I stay here tonight?""
I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Of course.""
Later, while the children watched a movie, Jordan came into the kitchen.
"Dad?""
"What's up?""
He held a small envelope.
"I found this under my bed.""
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Vanessa standing beside a man I'd never seen before.
They were outside a building with a sign reading:
*PARKER PROPERTY GROUP.*
On the back, Jordan had written:
This is the man who came to our house when Dad was at work.
I looked at him.
"Who is he?""
"I don't know. Mom told him not to come inside because you might see him.""
"When was this?""
"Last month.""
I examined the photograph again.
Vanessa was smiling.
The man was holding a thick folder.
I turned the photograph over.
Jordan had added another sentence.
He asked Mom if the house was ready.
My stomach tightened.
The house.
Not the money.
Not the company.
The house.
I called Daniel and sent him the photograph.
His reply came quickly.
Do not contact this man directly yet. I'll check the property records and determine whether any documents have been filed.
I looked toward the living room.
Vanessa had just sent another message.
*Tomorrow. Seven o'clock. Don't embarrass me in front of our guest.*
I typed one response.
Who is coming?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Finally, her reply arrived.
*Someone who can help us get what we deserve.*
I put my phone down.
May you like
April 15 was getting closer.
And now I knew Vanessa wasn't planning the transfer alone.
