Chapter 13 - The Night Grandpa DiedThe oldest secret in the family had nothing to do with the house. It had everything to do with why Derek was never allowed to fail.
My grandfather had been the kind of man who noticed everything.
He remembered birthdays.
He remembered debts.
He remembered promises.
Most importantly, he believed Derek was a disaster waiting to happen.
I had forgotten that.
Dad's letter reminded me.
Eleven years earlier, Grandpa had discovered that Derek had been taking money from his small construction company.
Not a huge amount.
At first.
A few thousand dollars.
Then more.
Grandpa confronted him.
Derek promised to repay it.
He didn't.
Grandpa told Dad:
“You are teaching that boy that consequences are optional.”
Dad had defended him.
Mom had cried.
Derek had promised to change.
Then Grandpa died suddenly.
The official cause had been a heart attack.
I kept reading.
Dad's letter said that on the night before Grandpa died, he had planned to confront Derek again.
But Grandpa never got the chance.
Instead, Derek had shown up at his house.
They argued.
Grandpa fell.
He wasn't dead immediately.
But Derek panicked.
He left.
Later that night, Grandpa's condition worsened.
By morning, he was gone.
I stopped reading.
Sophie looked at me.
“What?”
I handed her the letter.
She read silently.
Then she looked at me.
“The letter is saying Derek caused the fall?”
“Maybe.”
I continued.
Dad had never reported it.
He believed Derek was responsible for the chain of events.
But because there was no proof, because Grandpa's death had officially been classified as natural, Dad buried the truth.
That was the moment everything changed.
The family learned a terrible lesson.
Derek could do something wrong.
Dad would clean it up.
Then he did it again.
And again.
Until the crimes became too large for a father to hide.
I found a second letter.
This one from Grandpa.
It had been written months before his death.
To me.
Naomi, you are the one person in this family who earns what she has. Never let anyone make you ashamed of that.
I cried for the first time.
Not because of the words.
Because I remembered sitting beside him as a child while he taught me how to count money.
He had always told me:
“Money isn't what makes you good. But pretending money doesn't matter can make you foolish.”
Grandpa had known.
Maybe he had known everything.
Then I found another document.
A handwritten ledger.
Derek's name appeared repeatedly.
Dates.
Amounts.
Promises.
And one final line.
If he takes from the family again, remove him from the will.
That explained the transfer-on-death deed.
My parents had not originally intended Derek to inherit the house.
They had changed course after his debts grew too large.
But Grandpa's warning remained.
I realized my parents had spent eleven years trying to undo the consequences of one decision.
Instead of letting Derek face the first failure, they taught him something more dangerous.
Someone else would always pay.
Until the someone became me.
I took photographs of every document.
Then we heard a noise.
The front door.
Sophie looked at me.
“Did you lock it?”
“Yes.”
Footsteps.
Inside the house.
Slow.
Someone was walking down the hallway.
My heart hammered.
Sophie whispered:
“Call the police.”
I reached for my phone.
Then a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the door.
“Naomi.”
Derek.
I froze.
He knocked once.
“Open the door.”
I didn't move.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
Sophie stared at me.
Derek knocked again.
“You don't understand what you've done.”
I finally spoke.
“You forged my signature.”
Silence.
Then he laughed.
A quiet, exhausted laugh.
“You found everything.”
I looked at Sophie.
Then back at the door.
“No.”
I said:
“I found enough.”
He stepped closer.
“Give me the drive.”
“No.”
“You don't know who you're dealing with.”
“I know exactly who I'm dealing with.”
A long silence followed.
Then Derek said:
“You think Mom chose you because she loved you?”
I frowned.
“What?”
His voice became bitter.
“She chose you because Grandpa did.”
The sentence made no sense.
Then he said:
“The house wasn't supposed to go to you.”
I looked at the documents.
“It already did.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“The house was never the prize.”
A chill ran through me.
“Then what is?”
May you like
He answered:
“You.”
