Chapter 6: The Drawer Under The Tree
The drawer was only ten feet away.
A small wooden drawer beneath the television stand.
The kind of place nobody noticed.
The kind of place people used to hide things they never wanted found.
I looked at Vanessa.
Then at the drawer.
“You’re telling me not to open it?””
She nodded slowly.
“Yes.””
That was all I needed to hear.
I walked forward.
Vanessa stepped in front of me again.
“Marcus, listen to me.””
“No.””
“Please.””
I stopped.
Not because she asked.
Because I wanted to hear what she would say.
She took a breath.
“You think I’m some monster.””
I looked at her.
“I think you hurt my mother.””
Her eyes became wet.
“You don’t know everything.””
“Then tell me.””
She looked at the floor.
“I made mistakes.””
I waited.
But she said nothing else.
“Mistakes don’t explain forged documents.””
Her face tightened.
“I never forged anything.””
“Then what’s in the drawer?””
Silence.
My mother slowly stood behind me.
“Marcus.””
I looked back.
“Yes?””
“I’m scared.””
Those two words changed everything.
Because my mother wasn’t scared of what was inside the drawer.
She was scared of Vanessa.
I opened it.
Inside were folders.
Several of them.
My hands went still.
The top folder had my mother’s name written on it.
I picked it up.
Vanessa immediately moved.
“Don’t.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She had no answer.
I opened the folder.
The first page was a copy of the house documents.
The second was a medical form.
The third was a handwritten note.
I read the first line.
And my heart dropped.
“Evelyn shows signs of memory decline…”
I looked at my mother.
She looked confused.
“I never saw that.””
I turned the page.
Another report.
Another statement.
All describing my mother as incapable of managing her own property.
But the handwriting wasn’t my mother’s.
And the signatures looked wrong.
I looked at Vanessa.
“You were building a case.””
She shook her head.
“No.””
“You collected documents.””
“No.””
“You were trying to prove she couldn’t make decisions.””
Her eyes filled with anger.
“I was trying to help.””
I laughed quietly.
“Help?””
I held up the papers.
“This says my mother can’t control her own home.””
“She was struggling.””
“She was grieving.””
“She needed support.””
“She needed her son.””
My voice broke.
Not from anger.
From disappointment.
Vanessa looked away.
Then something unexpected happened.
My mother walked forward.
Slowly.
She looked at the papers.
Then at Vanessa.
“Why?””
Vanessa looked at her.
“What?””
“Why did you hate me?””
The question surprised everyone.
Even Vanessa.
My mother continued.
“I welcomed you.””
Her voice shook.
“I called you my daughter.””
Vanessa’s expression changed.
For a second, I saw guilt.
Real guilt.
Then it disappeared.
“I never hated you.””
My mother looked at the folders.
“Then why?””
Vanessa didn’t answer.
Because the truth was too ugly to say.
I opened another folder.
Inside were printed messages.
Photos.
Dates.
Notes.
Someone had been tracking my mother’s schedule.
Her appointments.
Her visitors.
Her daily routine.
I looked up.
“Why were you watching her?””
Vanessa said nothing.
I picked up my phone.
“I’m calling the police.””
Her head snapped up.
“No.””
The fear in her voice was immediate.
“Marcus, don’t.””
“Why?””
She stepped closer.
“Because you don’t understand what you’re seeing.””
“Then explain.””
She looked at the documents.
Then at my mother.
Then at me.
Finally, she whispered:
“Daniel wasn’t helping me.””
The room went silent.
I stared.
“What?””
Vanessa looked terrified.
“He was helping himself.””
My grip tightened.
“Who is Daniel?””
She looked toward the phone in my hand.
Then the papers.
Then the front door.
Like she was afraid someone might walk in.
“Marcus…”
Her voice dropped.
“You need to understand something.””
“What?””
She swallowed.
“I wasn’t the only person trying to get your mother’s house.””
The Christmas lights flickered across her face.
And for the first time that night, Vanessa looked afraid of someone else.
Not me.
Someone outside that room.
Someone I had never seen.
The phone on the table suddenly rang.
Everyone froze.
The caller ID appeared.
Daniel Price.
May you like
And Vanessa whispered:
“Don’t answer.””
