Chapter 4: The Note In The Backpack
I stared at the three words written on the paper until my vision blurred.
“Daddy, don’t trust her.””
The handwriting was uneven.
Small.
Careful.
Like Noah had written it when he was scared someone might find it.
I sat on the edge of his bed, holding the note in my hand.
My son was seven years old.
Seven.
At that age, children should be hiding candy under their pillows.
They should be drawing superheroes and asking for extra screen time.
They shouldn’t be leaving secret warnings for their fathers.
I looked around his room.
The posters on the wall.
The stuffed animals Sophie had given him.
The little night light shaped like a moon.
Everything looked normal.
But suddenly, none of it felt safe.
“Daddy?””
I turned.
Noah stood in the doorway wearing his pajamas.
His eyes immediately went to the paper in my hand.
His face went pale.
“Where did you find that?””
I didn’t want to scare him.
So I placed the paper down slowly.
“In your backpack.””
He looked at the floor.
“I wasn’t supposed to write it.””
My heart tightened.
“Why not?””
He swallowed.
“Because Vanessa said if I told you things, you would get angry.””
I moved closer.
“Son, I’m not angry at you.””
He looked up.
“Promise?””
“I promise.””
He climbed onto the bed beside me.
For a moment, he was quiet.
Then he whispered, “She’s different when you’re not home.””
I forced myself to stay calm.
“What do you mean?””
Noah rubbed his fingers together nervously.
“When you’re here, she acts nice.””
That sentence hurt.
“But when I’m gone?””
His eyes filled with tears.
“She says we’re a burden.””
I closed my eyes for a second.
A thousand thoughts raced through my head.
“How long has this been happening?””
He didn’t answer.
That scared me.
“Noah.””
“Since last year.””
The room felt smaller.
“Last year?””
He nodded.
“She told Sophie that you only stayed because you felt sorry for us.””
My jaw tightened.
“She said that?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
Noah looked away.
“Because every time I tried, she said she would leave.””
I sat beside my son.
“Leave?””
He nodded.
“She said if you knew how bad we were, you would send us away.””
I felt something break inside me.
My children weren’t just being hurt.
They were being manipulated.
I pulled Noah into a hug.
“You and Sophie are never a burden.””
He held onto me tightly.
“Daddy?””
“Yeah?””
“Is Mommy Vanessa going away?””
I hesitated.
Because I didn’t know.
But I knew one thing.
I couldn’t let fear decide my next move.
“I don’t know yet.””
He nodded.
Then he whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Daddy… you should check Sophie’s closet.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because that’s where she hides things.””
“What things?””
Noah looked toward the hallway.
“She told Sophie never to open it.””
I walked downstairs after he fell asleep.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I stood outside Sophie’s room.
Her little pink closet door was slightly open.
I remembered Vanessa saying I was overreacting.
I remembered her saying the children were difficult.
I remembered my daughter apologizing for wanting food.
I opened the closet.
Behind a stack of folded clothes was a small cardboard box.
Inside were drawings.
Dozens of them.
I picked up the first one.
It was a picture of our family.
Me.
Sophie.
Noah.
And Vanessa standing far away.
The next drawing showed me leaving through the front door.
Above it, Sophie had written:
“Daddy goes away.””
My hands started shaking.
Then I found a folded receipt underneath the drawings.
A receipt from a therapist’s office.
The name on it wasn’t mine.
It wasn’t Noah’s.
It wasn’t Sophie’s.
It belonged to Vanessa.
The appointment date was from six months ago.
And beside the payment information was a note written in pen:
“Discuss custody options.””
I stared at those two words.
Custody options.
Vanessa had been planning something.
Before I even knew there was a problem.
Then my phone buzzed.
Another message from the unknown number.
This time there was no picture.
Only a sentence.
“Now that you know about Marcus, you need to know who he really is.””
I looked at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
“He is not Vanessa’s boyfriend.””
I froze.
May you like
The next message came immediately.
“He is her first husband.””
