Chương 4
I looked at Grandma.
Her expression remained controlled.
But I could see the pain moving underneath it.
Not surprise.
Something worse.
Recognition.
“I should have told Eleanor sooner.”
My grandfather’s voice became quieter.
“But I was ashamed.”
I leaned closer to the laptop.
“I was ashamed that my own son kept coming to me for rescue.”
A long silence followed.
“When Richard asked for more, I refused.”
The room felt smaller.
“He became angry.”
Grandma opened her eyes.
“He said I had always chosen Eleanor over him.”
My throat tightened.
The sentence sounded familiar.
Not because I had heard it before.
Because I suddenly understood the shape of something I had never noticed.
My father had always carried a strange resentment toward my grandfather.
He never said it directly.
But it was there.
In the way he avoided talking about him.
In the way he changed subjects whenever someone mentioned how successful Grandpa had been.
“He told me he deserved something after everything he had done for the family.”
The recording continued.
“I told him family was not a debt.”
My grandfather stopped for several seconds.
Then he said something that made Grandma cover her mouth.
“I told him he was turning love into a transaction.”
The file ended.
Nobody spoke.
The laptop fan continued spinning.
A car passed outside.
Somewhere nearby, a lawn mower started.
Ordinary sounds.
A normal afternoon.
Except nothing felt normal anymore.
“He knew,” I said.
Grandma looked at the screen.
“He knew Richard was taking money.”
“Not everything.”
“No.”
She touched the laptop.
“But enough.”
I stood and walked to the window.
My father had spent years telling us Grandpa was difficult.
Proud.
Old-fashioned.
I remembered those words now.
How casually they had been repeated.
How easily everyone accepted them.
“What did my father mean when he said this wasn’t about money?”
Grandma remained quiet.
I turned around.
“Grandma.”
She looked down.
“There’s more.”
The words made my stomach tighten.
“What?”
She opened the notebook again.
Several pages near the back had been folded.
“I found this after your grandfather died.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure.”
“About what?”
She looked embarrassed.
That surprised me.
My grandmother was not easily embarrassed.
“About whether I was protecting your father.”
I sat back down.
“What does that mean?”
She opened the folded page.
“There was a transfer.”
“To who?”
She slid the notebook toward me.
The name was written there.
Not Richard Mercer.
Not my father.
A woman’s name.
“Who is Claire Whitmore?”
Grandma looked away.
“My daughter.”
I stared at her.
“You have a daughter?”
The question sounded cruel the second it left my mouth.
But I could not stop the confusion.
Grandma had one child.
My father.
At least, that was what I had always known.
She nodded slowly.
“I did.”
“Did?”
“She died when she was six.”
The room went quiet again.
A different kind of quiet.
The kind that arrives when a person realizes they have been missing an entire chapter of someone’s life.
“I’m sorry.”
Grandma shook her head.
“She was your grandfather’s child from his first marriage.”
I looked back at the notebook.
“Then why was money transferred under her name?”
“That is what I never understood.”
“Did my father know?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because he was the one who told me about it.”
I frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
She closed the notebook.
“Years ago, Richard found old records from before I married Samuel.”
“So?”
“So he used them whenever he wanted to hurt me.”
My chest tightened.
“What does that have to do with now?”
Grandma stared at the floor.
“I think your father found something in your grandfather’s papers.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why is he afraid?”
She looked toward the box.
“Because whatever he found, he believed it was worth risking everything.”
My phone vibrated again.
This time it was not my father.
It was an unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice responded.
“Daniel Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Karen Whitmore.”
The administrator from Willow Creek.
I stepped away from the desk.
“What happened?”
“Your father contacted us.”
My jaw tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said there had been a misunderstanding.”
I almost laughed.
“A misunderstanding?”
“He asked whether your grandmother had been taken from our facility.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wanted to know if she was still under our care.”
The room went silent.
“He didn’t know she left?”
“No.”
I looked at Grandma.
She was watching me.
“Did he say anything else?”
Karen hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He asked if she had taken any documents with her.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What documents?”
“He didn’t specify.”
Grandma slowly stood.
“Thank you,” I said before ending the call.
She already knew.
“He’s looking for something.”
“Yes.”
“But he doesn’t know we found it.”
“No.”
I looked at the box.
The notebook.
The flash drive.
The papers hidden behind the bookshelf.
A strange thought entered my mind.
“What if this isn’t about the house?”
Grandma studied me.
“What do you mean?”
“What if the house is just what we can see?”
She did not answer.
She did not need to.
Because the look on her face told me she had been thinking the same thing.
The front door opened.
Both of us froze.
A voice came from the hallway.
“Mom?”
My father.
He was standing inside the house.
He had a key.
For a moment, nobody moved.
He looked older than he had on the phone.
His jacket was wrinkled.
His face looked exhausted.
Then his eyes landed on the box.
The room changed.
Not because he was angry.
Because he was afraid.
“Daniel,” he said.
His voice was quiet.
“Put that down.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He looked at Grandma.
“Because you don’t know what you’re holding.”
Grandma’s expression hardened.
“Neither did I.”
My father flinched.
The reaction was small.
But I saw it.
And so did she.
May you like
“Dad,” I said.
He looked at me.
