Chapter 6 - Lucy Recalls A Terrifying Night In The Study
Upstairs in the guest suite, Lucy sat propped up against a mountain of plush silk pillows, drinking hot chamomile tea. Her eyes were clearer today, the twenty years of dirt and trauma slowly yielding to familiar domestic warmth. I sat on the edge of the mattress, holding her frail, calloused hands in mine.
"Do you remember the study downstairs, Mom?" I asked gently, using the word for the very first time. Lucy flinched slightly, her gaze drifting toward the ornate crown molding on the bedroom ceiling.
"A big wooden desk," Lucy murmured, her voice carrying a distant, haunting echo. "Books... and green leather chairs."
"Yes, that was my father's study," I encouraged, stroking her graying hair back from her forehead. "Tell me what you found on the desk that night."
Lucy’s breathing became shallow, her fingers tightening around the porcelain teacup with sudden tension. "Ledgers," she whispered, her eyes widening in sudden terror. "Red numbers... money being stolen from the company accounts."
"Who was stealing the money, Mom?" I asked, holding my breath as I waited for the answer. "A man," she gasped, pressing a hand against her temple. "He came through the French doors... he looked at me like I was an insect."
"Was it my father?" I asked, dreading the answer. Lucy shook her head violently, spilling hot tea across the white bedsheets.
"No... not Arthur," Lucy choked out, tears spilling over her wrinkled eyelids. "It was... it was Jonathan Vance."
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Jonathan Vance—my husband’s late father, the patriarch of the multi-billion-dollar Vance financial empire. The room seemed to tilt sideways as the horrifying truth struck me with undeniable clarity.
My husband’s father was the man who had attacked my mother twenty years ago and driven her onto the streets.
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