Chapter 4: Andrew Comes Home
Andrew stood in the doorway with the cast-iron pot hanging from one hand.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
The man I had married seven years ago looked completely different.
Not older.
Not angrier.
Just exposed.
His eyes moved from my face to the open safe, then to the documents spread across the table.
Finally, they stopped on the letter from my father.
“You weren't supposed to find that.”
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
I had expected shouting.
Instead, he sounded almost disappointed.
As if I had ruined a carefully arranged plan.
I slowly folded my father's letter.
“You knew about the safe.”
Andrew's jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Then why did you say I wasn't supposed to find it?”
He didn't answer.
Daniel stepped between us.
Andrew looked at him.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who knows what you've been doing.”
Andrew laughed.
A short, humorless sound.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.”
I held up the photograph.
“You and this woman.”
His expression changed.
“You've been following me?”
“No.”
I pointed toward Daniel.
“He has.”
Andrew looked at Daniel.
Then back at me.
“Who hired him?”
I said nothing.
Andrew's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“My father.”
The color drained from his face.
For the first time since he entered the house, Andrew looked genuinely frightened.
Then he laughed again.
“My father-in-law has been dead for six years.”
“I know.”
“So who hired him?”
“I don't know.”
Andrew stared at me.
I watched his eyes.
He was calculating.
I had seen that expression before.
Whenever I confronted him about money.
Whenever he wanted me to doubt myself.
Whenever Lorraine accused me of something I hadn't done.
He always had an answer.
This time, I wasn't going to give him time to invent one.
“What is File 17-B?”
Andrew froze.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Your lawyer's office.”
His eyes flicked toward the green folder.
“Who told you?”
“Answer me.”
“You don't understand what you're asking.”
“Then explain it.”
He stepped forward.
Daniel moved with him.
Andrew stopped.
“I don't want trouble.”
I almost laughed.
“You brought a pot into my house.”
He looked at it.
Then slowly placed it on the table.
“I didn't throw that.”
“Your mother did.”
“You know how she is.”
“Do I?”
He looked at me.
I could see him trying to soften his expression.
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
That word nearly broke me.
Not because I still loved him.
But because I remembered how many times I had heard it before.
Please trust me.
Please don't ask questions.
Please give me another chance.
Please don't make this bigger than it is.
Seven years of please.
Seven years of lies.
I shook my head.
“I'm done.”
His expression hardened.
“You don't mean that.”
“I do.”
“You're upset.”
“You're having an affair.”
“You don't know the whole story.”
“You lied about the lake cottage.”
“I had to.”
“You lied about the woman.”
“She isn't what you think.”
“You lied about the house.”
He stopped.
That one landed.
I stepped closer.
“My father left this house to me.”
Andrew said nothing.
“You knew.”
Silence.
“You knew the trust existed.”
Still nothing.
“You knew you couldn't legally take the house.”
His eyes hardened.
“I never tried to take anything.”
I picked up the legal document.
“Then why did you tell her you would have the house by the end of the month?”
Andrew stared at me.
My heart pounded.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The lake cottage.”
His face went pale.
I continued.
“You told her I would sign whatever you put in front of me.”
Andrew's expression changed completely.
The mask disappeared.
For the first time, I saw the man underneath it.
Cold.
Calculating.
Angry.
“You shouldn't have watched that video.”
“You shouldn't have made it.”
He looked at Daniel.
“You recorded me?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Andrew suddenly lunged toward the laptop.
Daniel blocked him.
Andrew shoved him.
The laptop crashed onto the floor.
“Enough!” I screamed.
Both men stopped.
I picked up the laptop.
Then I looked at Andrew.
“You're leaving.”
He laughed.
“This is my house.”
I smiled.
“No.”
I opened the green folder.
“This is where you're wrong.”
I pulled out the deed.
“My name is on it.”
Andrew's eyes moved across the page.
His face tightened.
Then he whispered:
“You think paperwork will protect you?”
“No.”
I held up my phone.
“Evidence will.”
He stared at me.
I had recorded everything.
His confession.
His threats.
His admission that he knew about the safe.
His reaction to the trust.
His eyes flicked toward the phone.
“You wouldn't.”
“I already did.”
He stepped closer.
“You're my wife.”
“Not for much longer.”
“You're going to destroy everything we've built.”
I looked around the house.
The photographs.
The furniture.
The wedding portrait.
The kitchen where I had cooked thousands of meals.
The bedroom where I had slept beside him for seven years.
“You didn't build this.”
I pointed toward the walls.
“My father did.”
Then toward the furniture.
“I bought that.”
Then toward the deed.
“My inheritance paid for this.”
Finally, I pointed at him.
“And you spent seven years pretending it was yours.”
Andrew's face twisted.
“You think you're better than me because your father left you money?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I think I'm finally seeing you clearly.”
He suddenly smiled.
That frightened me.
Because it wasn't the smile of a defeated man.
It was the smile of someone who had just remembered something.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
He reached into his jacket.
Daniel immediately stepped forward.
But Andrew pulled out a folded document.
He threw it onto the table.
“You're going to regret opening that safe.”
I unfolded the paper.
It was a bank statement.
My name was on it.
But the account number wasn't mine.
I looked closer.
Then my heart stopped.
There had been withdrawals.
Large ones.
Over the past three years.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Money transferred from an account I had never seen.
Andrew leaned against the table.
“You don't know everything your father left you.”
I stared at him.
“What is this?”
“Your trust account.”
“My trust account?”
“Yes.”
“You said you couldn't access it.”
“I couldn't.”
“Then how were you taking money?”
“I wasn't.”
I looked at the transaction history.
Every transfer had been authorized using my name.
My signature appeared beside several of them.
But I had never signed them.
My hands began shaking.
“Forgery.”
Andrew didn't respond.
“Did you forge my signature?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He smiled.
“You should ask your mother-in-law.”
I froze.
“Where is Lorraine?”
Andrew's smile disappeared.
“She was supposed to be here.”
“She left.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“She drove away.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Andrew pulled out his phone.
He called her.
No answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
Then he looked at me.
“What did you find?”
I didn't answer.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Andrew answered.
“Hello?”
He listened.
His face slowly changed.
“What do you mean she's gone?”
He turned away from us.
“What happened?”
Silence.
Then:
“No. That's impossible.”
His voice became frantic.
“Where?”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
“Your mother-in-law is missing.”
I almost laughed.
“She left.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“She didn't leave.”
“What are you talking about?”
Andrew looked toward the window.
“Someone took her.”
The room went silent.
Daniel immediately reached for his phone.
“When?”
Andrew looked at him.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You said someone called.”
Andrew swallowed.
“They said they had her.”
I stepped closer.
“What did they want?”
Andrew looked at me.
“You.”
My blood ran cold.
“Me?”
“They said if I want my mother alive…”
He stopped.
“Then what?”
Andrew looked toward the safe.
“They want whatever your father left inside.”
I stared at the open safe.
There were still documents inside.
The notebook.
The trust agreement.
The photograph.
The letter.
And something else.
Something I hadn't noticed.
A small black envelope tucked beneath the notebook.
I picked it up.
There was no name on it.
Only a number.
17-B
I looked at Andrew.
He saw it.
His face went white.
“No.”
“What?”
“Don't open that.”
I smiled faintly.
“Why?”
“Because you don't understand what it contains.”
“Then tell me.”
He stepped toward me.
“That file could destroy more than our marriage.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
I pulled it out.
And every thought in my head disappeared.
It showed my father.
Standing beside the woman from Andrew's photographs.
But the woman wasn't young.
She wasn't a stranger.
She was someone I knew.
Someone I had trusted.
Someone who had been standing in my kitchen only an hour earlier.
I looked at the photograph again.
Then at Andrew.
“Who is she?”
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't need to.
I already knew.
The woman in the photograph was Lorraine.
But the photograph was dated twenty-four years ago.
And in the picture, Lorraine was holding a newborn baby.
A baby wearing a hospital bracelet.
The name on the bracelet was visible.
Andrew Carter.
My hands began to tremble.
Andrew looked at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“Your father wasn't my enemy.”
I stared at him.
“He was my father too.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What did you just say?”
Andrew looked directly into my eyes.
Then he said the sentence that shattered everything I thought I knew about my marriage.
“Your father was my biological father.”
May you like
Before I could respond, every light in the house went out.
And from somewhere upstairs came the sound of a door slowly opening.
