Chương 4
Not something that could be dismissed as a wife being emotional or a father being overprotective.
Proof.
Richard looked at the notebook again.
It was small.
Black cover.
Bent at the corners.
The kind of thing most people would ignore sitting on a table in a wealthy home.
But Emily held it like it was fragile.
Like someone might take it away.
“Where did you get that?” Richard asked.
Emily glanced toward the glass doors.
Ethan was still outside.
His back was turned.
The phone pressed against his ear.
“I started writing things down.”
“When?”
“After I realized I couldn’t remember everything clearly.”
Richard did not interrupt.
She opened the notebook slowly.
Several pages were filled with handwriting.
Dates.
Times.
Short sentences.
Some entries were only a few words.
Richard looked down.
April 3.
He screamed because I asked about the bank account.
April 18.
He apologized and bought flowers.
May 2.
He said nobody would believe me.
The words were written in different shades of ink.
Some pages were neat.
Some were rushed.
Some letters were pressed so hard they nearly tore through the paper.
Richard felt something tighten in his chest.
A battlefield report could be easier to read than this.
At least a battlefield report did not belong to someone you loved.
“Why didn’t you show me this before?” he asked.
Emily closed the notebook.
“Because I was embarrassed.”
The answer came immediately.
Too quickly.
Richard sat back.
“Embarrassed?”
She nodded.
“I married him.”
Her voice cracked.
“I told everyone how lucky I was.”
Richard looked around the room.
The expensive furniture.
The framed awards.
The photographs of Ethan shaking hands with important people.
“I defended him.”
Emily stared at her hands.
“When people asked why I didn’t come around anymore, I made excuses.”
“You were trying to survive.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I was trying to prove I wasn’t wrong.”
That sentence stayed with him.
Richard had seen soldiers do the same thing.
Not with marriages.
With decisions.
Someone could make a choice and then spend years defending it because admitting the choice was wrong felt worse than continuing the pain.
The door opened.
Emily immediately closed the notebook.
Ethan stepped inside.
His phone was gone.
“Everything okay?”
Richard watched his daughter.
The change was almost invisible.
Her shoulders lowered.
Her voice disappeared.
“Yeah,” she said.
One word.
Automatic.
Ethan looked at Richard.
Then at the notebook.
The pause lasted less than a second.
But Richard caught it.
“You found her journal,” Ethan said.
Emily froze.
Richard looked at him.
“You know about this?”
Ethan walked farther into the room.
“I know my wife writes when she’s upset.”
“She calls it a journal,” Richard said.
“I call it a way she keeps herself angry.”
Emily looked up.
“What?”
Ethan sighed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You always do this.”
The words were directed at Emily.
Not Richard.
“You take one moment, one argument, one mistake, and you build an entire case against me.”
Emily’s face changed.
“I wrote down what happened.”
“No.”
Ethan shook his head.
“You wrote down what you felt happened.”
Richard stood.
The movement made Ethan stop.
“I think we’re done talking about this right now.”
Ethan looked at him.
“You’re taking her side without knowing the facts.”
Richard nodded.
“That’s true.”
Again, Ethan seemed to expect agreement.
Again, Richard continued.
“But I know enough to understand that my daughter is afraid to speak in her own house.”
Nobody answered.
The statement landed differently.
Even Ethan seemed to understand that.
He looked away first.
“I’m going upstairs.”
Emily’s hand tightened around the notebook.
Richard noticed.
“Why?”
Ethan turned.
“Because I need a minute.”
“Why upstairs?”
Another pause.
Then Ethan smiled faintly.
“Because that’s where I keep my office.”
Richard did not like the answer.
Not because it was suspicious.
Because he had no way to know if it was.
That was the problem.
The truth was buried under years of confusion.
Ethan walked toward the stairs.
Halfway there, he stopped.
“Emily.”
She looked up.
“I love you.”
The words sounded genuine.
That disturbed Richard more than if they had sounded fake.
Because people were complicated.
A person could love someone and still hurt them.
A person could believe they were protecting someone while destroying them.
Ethan disappeared upstairs.
The house became quiet again.
Emily waited until she heard a door close.
Then she exhaled.
“He always says that after.”
“After what?”
She looked at Richard.
“After he scares me.”
Richard sat down.
“What happened today?”
Emily rubbed her eyes.
“He wanted me to sign something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That matters.”
“I know.”
She opened the notebook again.
“He told me it was just paperwork for taxes.”
Richard frowned.
“And?”
“I read some of it.”
“What did you see?”
“Something about transferring ownership.”
“Of what?”
Emily shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Richard felt the situation changing.
This was no longer only about an argument.
There were documents.
Money.
Control.
Possible legal consequences.
“What did you do?”
“I told him I wanted time to read it.”
“And then?”
“He got angry.”
“How angry?”
Emily looked toward the ceiling.
“He grabbed my arm.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“But he stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because I screamed.”
The answer was quiet.
“He hates when I scream.”
Richard looked down.
The old anger returned.
Not the wild kind.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that made him want action.
He forced it down.
“Did anyone else hear?”
“No.”
“Security cameras?”
Emily hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
“Emily.”
“There are cameras.”
“Where?”
“Outside.”
“And inside?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.”
Richard looked around the room.
The perfect house.
The perfect life.
The perfect image.
Suddenly it felt less like a home.
More like a place designed to hide things.
“Does Ethan have access to your accounts?”
Emily nodded.
“Yes.”
“Your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Your location?”
“Yes.”
Richard leaned back.
The list was longer than he expected.
“How long?”
She looked confused.
May you like
“How long what?”
“How long have you been living like this?”
