Chapter 5
My mother died three weeks before I stopped speaking to my father.
Until that moment, I had believed those two events were unrelated.
My mother, Elaine Bennett, collapsed in her kitchen at fifty-seven.
The doctors called it a catastrophic cardiac event.
There had been no warning.
No goodbye.
One moment she was alive.
The next I was standing in a hospital hallway while a doctor explained that they had done everything they could.
Daniel had not been there.
He said he had been in Houston closing a contract.
Margaret arrived before he did.
She hugged me while I cried.
She organized food for the funeral.
She told everyone I needed space.
She even convinced me Dad was making my grief worse.
Three weeks later, Dad and I had our final argument.
He accused Margaret of interfering in our marriage.
I accused him of using my mother’s death to control me.
I told him I never wanted to see him again.
And Daniel stood behind me.
Quietly supporting my decision.
Now Claire was telling me he had lied about where he was the night my mother died.
I stared at him outside the courthouse.
“Where were you?”
Daniel looked at Claire with pure rage.
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“You don’t know the truth.”
“Then tell me.”
I stepped between them.
“No.”
They both stopped.
I looked at Daniel.
“You tell me.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I was with my mother.”
“Where?”
“At her house.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“Naomi, it wasn’t what you think.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
Dad approached.
His face had changed.
“What night?”
I looked at him.
“The night Mom died.”
He went still.
Then his eyes moved toward Daniel.
“Where were you?”
Daniel swallowed.
“With Margaret.”
Dad stepped closer.
“Why?”
“I was helping her with something.”
“What?”
Daniel said nothing.
Dad’s voice dropped.
“What?”
“Dad.”
He ignored me.
Daniel finally answered.
“She asked me to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“A private investigator.”
My skin prickled.
Dad froze.
“What investigator?”
“I don’t remember his name.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Yes, you do.”
Daniel spun around.
“Stay out of this.”
She folded her arms.
“His name was Patrick Sloan.”
My father actually staggered backward.
I grabbed his arm.
“Dad?”
He stared at Claire.
“Say that again.”
“Patrick Sloan.”
My father closed his eyes.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Dad looked at me.
“The man Margaret hired to investigate me.”
“When?”
“After your mother died.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Before.”
The word hit harder than anything else.
Before.
I felt sick.
“Why would Margaret investigate you before Mom died?”
Dad looked at Daniel.
“I’d like to hear his answer.”
Daniel’s hands trembled.
“I didn’t know what Sloan was doing. Mom said you were trying to destroy our marriage.”
“So you helped her investigate my father?”
“I was trying to understand why he hated my family.”
Dad let out a humorless laugh.
“I never hated your family.”
“You hated my mother.”
“I distrusted your mother.”
Daniel looked away.
Dad continued.
“Because your mother spent years trying to isolate Naomi from us.”
“That’s not true.”
“She told Elaine that Naomi would be happier if we stopped interfering. She told me you were planning to move out of state because we visited too often. She told Naomi we looked down on you.”
My throat tightened.
Margaret had told me all those things.
I thought they came from my parents.
Dad looked at me.
“Your mother and I argued about it constantly. Elaine wanted to keep the peace. I wanted to confront Margaret.”
I stared at the sidewalk.
“How does this connect to Mom?”
Dad hesitated.
Then he said, “Your mother called me the afternoon she died.”
My chest tightened.
“She told me she had found something.”
“What?”
“She wouldn’t say over the phone. She wanted me to come home immediately.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was in Fort Worth. By the time I reached the house, the ambulance was already there.”
I could barely breathe.
“She found something about Margaret?”
“I never knew.”
Daniel whispered, “Oh God.”
We all looked at him.
He suddenly seemed terrified.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Naomi, we shouldn’t do this here.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“What do you know?”
He looked into my eyes.
“I need to go back to the house.”
“No.”
“There might be something there.”
“What?”
He pulled away.
“My old laptop.”
Claire stepped closer.
“You destroyed that.”
Daniel stared at her.
“No. Mom told you I destroyed it.”
“What laptop?” I demanded.
He looked at me.
“The one I used when Sloan was working for Mom.”
My father’s attorney instincts took over.
“You are not touching that computer.”
Daniel exhaled.
“It’s mine.”
“It may contain evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Dad’s voice turned cold.
“We’re about to find out.”
Evelyn contacted a criminal attorney and the detective handling Margaret’s assault case.
By evening, police agreed to escort us to the marital home because of the allegations involving financial fraud.
I did not take Ava.
She stayed with Dad’s housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, who had known me since I was twelve.
Ava loved her within twenty minutes.
That made leaving easier.
Nothing else was easy.
Walking into my own house felt like entering a stranger’s life.
The first thing I noticed was the family photographs.
Several were missing.
Our wedding picture was gone.
The framed photograph of my mother holding newborn Ava was gone.
In their place, the console table held a vase of white roses.
Claire’s favorite flowers.
I knew because Daniel had bought them for her birthday.
I only knew that because I had seen the charge on our credit card and believed they were for a client.
I walked upstairs.
Daniel followed.
“Naomi.”
“Don’t.”
I opened our bedroom door.
Half the closet had been emptied.
My clothes were still there.
His were gone.
On the dresser sat an envelope.
My name was written across the front.
“What is this?”
Daniel looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
I opened it.
Inside was a printed apartment brochure.
A luxury building twelve miles away.
A unit number had been circled.
A handwritten note read:
Naomi can move here after filing. Close enough for supervised visits.
I stared at Daniel.
He swore.
“That’s Mom’s handwriting.”
“You knew she was planning this.”
“Not that part.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Every terrible thing that happens, you knew part of it.”
He had no answer.
The old laptop was in the attic.
Daniel found it inside a box marked TAX RECORDS.
He turned it over to the detective without opening it.
Then I heard Claire call from the guest room.
“Naomi?”
I found her standing in the doorway.
She looked sick.
Inside the room was a crib.
A brand-new crib.
Beside it sat a changing table.
Tiny white baby clothes filled open drawers.
On the wall were pale blue stars.
My house.
A nursery.
For my husband’s girlfriend.
I leaned against the doorframe.
Daniel arrived behind me.
His face fell.
“I didn’t do this.”
Claire stared at him.
“You told me Naomi knew.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“You said she agreed to move out after Ava’s birthday.”
My head snapped toward him.
Daniel shook his head.
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I said my mother told me Naomi would probably move out.”
Claire laughed.
“Do you hear yourself?”
I walked into the room.
On the changing table was a card.
Welcome home, little Mercer.
Love, Grandma Margaret.
I picked it up.
My fingers felt numb.
Daniel said, “Naomi, I swear—”
I turned.
“You let this happen inside our house.”
“I didn’t know she finished it.”
“Finished it?”
His face changed.
He knew he had made a mistake.
“So you knew she started it.”
Silence.
I walked past him.
Downstairs, the detective had powered on the old laptop.
It was password protected.
Daniel gave him three possibilities.
The third worked.
A folder opened.
SLOAN.
My father stood beside the detective.
Inside were surveillance photographs.
Dad leaving work.
Mom shopping.
Mom meeting friends.
Our house.
My childhood home.
Me.
My parents.
Years of pictures.
I felt violated.
Then we found the emails.
Margaret to Daniel.
Elaine is turning Naomi against us.
Daniel’s reply:
Naomi says her mom wants us to spend more time with them.
Margaret:
That woman is manipulating her.
Another.
Margaret:
Sloan says Victor is changing the estate documents.
Daniel:
Why do we care?
Margaret:
Because Naomi needs protection.
Another.
Daniel:
Mom, stop. This is getting weird.
Margaret:
You’ll thank me someday.
Then an email dated the day my mother died.
Margaret:
Meet Sloan at 7. Elaine found the file.
Daniel:
What file?
Margaret:
Just get here.
My hands shook.
The next email came at 7:42 p.m.
Daniel:
Where is he?
Margaret:
Running late.
At 8:11:
Daniel:
Naomi called. Her mom collapsed. I’m going to the hospital.
Margaret:
Stay where you are.
Daniel:
What?
Margaret:
If you leave now, Naomi will know you lied about Houston.
Daniel:
I don’t care.
Then nothing.
I looked at Daniel.
Tears were running down his face.
“I left.”
My father whispered, “What file?”
We searched.
At the bottom of the folder was a scanned document.
It was an old copy of my parents’ estate plan.
My mother’s handwritten notes covered the margins.
One sentence was underlined.
If Naomi’s marriage ends, Margaret Mercer must never have access to assets intended for Naomi or future grandchildren.
My father sat down.
“She knew.”
“What?”
He pointed.
“Elaine knew Margaret wanted access to family money.”
Daniel covered his mouth.
Then the detective opened another file.
An audio recording.
Dated two days before Mom died.
A woman’s voice came through the laptop.
My mother.
“If anything happens to me, Victor, don’t let Margaret convince Naomi you’re the enemy.”
I stopped breathing.
Mom continued.
“I found copies of our financial documents in Daniel’s office. I don’t know how she got them.”
Then another voice entered the room.
Margaret.
The recording became muffled.
My mother said, “What are you doing here?”
Margaret answered.
“We need to talk about Naomi.”
The audio ended.
The detective looked up.
“Where did this recording come from?”
Daniel whispered, “Sloan.”
My father looked at him.
“Why was Sloan recording my wife?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then the detective found one final file.
A surveillance log.
The last entry was from the night Mom died.
7:18 p.m. — Margaret Mercer entered Bennett residence.
7:51 p.m. — Margaret Mercer exited Bennett residence.
8:03 p.m. — Emergency services arrived.
Nobody spoke.
My mother had collapsed sometime during the thirty-three minutes Margaret was inside her house.
My father looked at me.
May you like
I saw the same terrifying thought in his eyes.
Maybe my mother’s death had not been as simple as we believed.
