Chương 7
Not the arguments.
Not the obvious cruelty.
The structure underneath.
His mother needed someone beneath her.
And for years, I had been the easiest person to place there.
"What is in the safe?" Marcus asked.
Patricia's expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But everyone saw it.
Grant took a step forward.
"Mom."
She looked at him.
"You should leave this alone."
"No."
His voice surprised even him.
"I should have stopped asking questions years ago."
For a moment, Patricia looked almost hurt.
Then it vanished.
"You are emotional."
"No."
Grant shook his head.
"I'm finally paying attention."
The sentence landed harder than any accusation.
Patricia stared at him.
"After everything I did for you?"
"That's the problem."
His voice cracked.
"You always say that."
She looked away.
"Because it's true."
"Maybe."
He swallowed.
"But every time you help me, you make me feel like I owe you my entire life."
That was the first time I had ever heard Grant challenge her.
Not as a husband.
Not as a son trying to impress her.
Just as a person who was tired.
Patricia's face softened for a second.
And that almost made it worse.
Because I saw how easily she could have been different.
How close she came.
Then she looked at me.
"Did you enjoy this?"
I frowned.
"What?"
"Watching my family fall apart."
I stared at her.
"I didn't make this happen."
She laughed quietly.
"No."
Her eyes moved toward Grant.
"You just waited until it did."
I wanted to respond.
I had a hundred answers.
But none of them mattered.
Because Marcus had already moved toward the desk.
"Where is the safe?"
Patricia didn't answer.
He looked at the walls.
Then the bookshelf.
Then the painting behind her.
"You moved it."
Her expression changed.
Marcus noticed.
"You did."
"What are you talking about?"
"The safe."
He pointed toward the painting.
"The wall discoloration."
I looked closer.
There was a slight difference in the paint near the frame.
Something I had never noticed.
Marcus walked toward it.
Patricia stepped in front of him.
"Don't."
The room went still.
Not because of the word.
Because of the fear behind it.
Marcus stopped.
"Why?"
She said nothing.
"Patricia."
Her shoulders lowered.
For the first time all day, she looked old.
Not powerful.
Not untouchable.
Just tired.
"You don't understand what you're opening."
Grant looked at her.
"Then explain it."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
"From your father."
Nobody spoke.
The name changed the room.
Grant stared at her.
"My father has been dead for twelve years."
"I know."
"Then what are you talking about?"
Patricia looked toward the locked section of the wall.
"There are things about your father you never knew."
I felt a chill move through me.
Not because secrets were surprising.
Because secrets had a way of spreading.
One hidden thing usually meant another.
Marcus crossed his arms.
"What things?"
Patricia looked at him.
"You think this is about money."
She looked at me.
"You think this is about Allison's company."
Then she shook her head.
"You are all looking at the wrong problem."
Grant stepped closer.
"Mom."
Her voice dropped.
"Your father didn't lose that money."
The words were quiet.
But they changed everything.
Marcus went completely still.
"What?"
Patricia looked at her son.
"Your father moved it."
"Where?"
She didn't answer.
"Where did he move it?"
Her eyes moved toward me.
And I understood before she spoke.
"Into a company account."
My stomach dropped.
Grant looked confused.
"What company?"
Patricia's lips parted slightly.
"The company that Allison built."
Nobody moved.
The accusation hung in the air.
Impossible.
Absurd.
But Patricia looked certain.
And that was what scared me.
Because if she believed it, then someone had been feeding her a story for years.
And somehow, that story had my name written across it.
The room remained silent for several seconds after Patricia's accusation.
I waited for the feeling I expected.
Shock.
Fear.
Anger.
Instead, there was something else.
A strange emptiness.
Because I had spent years being blamed for things I did not do.
The difference was that this time, I was no longer alone in the room.
"That doesn't make any sense," Grant said.
His voice was quieter than before.
Almost like he was afraid of the answer.
Patricia looked at him.
"You were never supposed to know."
The words hurt him.
I saw it.
Not because she had revealed a secret.
Because she had admitted he had been intentionally excluded.
"Know what?"
She looked away.
"Your father was in trouble before he died."
Grant shook his head.
"My father was successful."
"He was both."
Patricia walked toward the desk and placed her hand on the polished wood.
"People think success means a person has no fear."
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"They are wrong."
Marcus remained focused.
"Start from the beginning."
Patricia gave him a cold look.
"You don't get to demand answers in my home."
Marcus glanced toward the door.
"Actually, based on today's events, I do."
For the first time, Patricia looked like she remembered she no longer had the power she once had.
She hated that.
I could see it.
Not because she cared about the house itself.
Because the house represented control.
Without it, she was just Patricia Monroe.
A woman who had made mistakes.
A woman who could be questioned.
"My husband invested in a company years ago," she said.
"What company?" Grant asked.
She looked at me.
I already knew the answer she wanted to give.
"The company that became yours."
My heart sank.
"That is impossible."
Patricia smiled slightly.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The confidence."
She shook her head.
"You have always believed because you worked hard, everything around you belonged only to you."
I felt anger rise.
Not explosive.
Not uncontrolled.
A colder kind.
"The company is mine because I built it."
"Did you?"
The question landed harder than the accusation.
May you like
Not because I believed her.
Because I hated that a small part of me wanted to understand why she thought she could say it.
