Chapter 2 - The Real Reason
Jordan’s hands were shaking so badly that I took the phone from him.
Another message appeared.
YOU NEVER DID ANYTHING TO ME.
I read it twice.
Then a third message arrived.
I’M SORRY.
Jordan sat down hard on the couch.
“She lied.”
His voice sounded empty.
I sat beside him.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Brianna lied.”
“Someone pressured her.”
“That still means she lied.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
I typed carefully.
This is Marcus. Are you safe?
Brianna answered almost immediately.
YES.
WHERE ARE YOU?
AT MY DAD’S.
Relief loosened something inside my chest.
I typed again.
Did Vanessa make you accuse Jordan?
The typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Finally:
YES.
Jordan covered his face.
“Why?”
I asked Brianna the same question.
Her response took almost a minute.
MOM SAID JORDAN NEEDED TO LEAVE.
WHY?
Another pause.
Then:
SHE SAID HE WAS IN THE WAY.
I stared at those words.
In the way of what?
I typed.
Brianna responded:
I DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING.
Then another message.
I HEARD HER TALKING TO A MAN.
Jordan looked over my shoulder.
“What man?”
I asked.
Brianna wrote:
I DON’T KNOW HIS NAME. SHE MET HIM MORE THAN ONCE.
Another message followed.
SHE SAID IF JORDAN WAS GONE YOU WOULD BE EASIER TO CONTROL.
I felt cold from my neck to my fingertips.
Jordan stood.
“What does that mean?”
I didn’t answer.
Because memories were suddenly lining up in my head.
Vanessa complaining whenever Jordan and I made plans without her.
Vanessa asking exactly when he planned to move out after high school.
Vanessa suggesting his room would make a wonderful office.
Vanessa becoming furious when I said he could live with me during college if he wanted.
At the time, I saw insecurity.
Now I saw a pattern.
I typed again.
What else did you hear?
Brianna replied:
SHE SAID THE HOUSE WOULD BE HERS SOON.
Jordan and I looked at each other.
The house.
I had bought it six years before meeting Vanessa.
It was the last home Lisa had lived in.
It was where Jordan had grown up.
Vanessa had asked several times why her name wasn’t on the deed.
I always gave the same answer.
Because I owned it before we married.
Two months earlier, she had stood in my office with her arms crossed.
“If you trust me, put my name on it.”
“That isn’t how trust works.”
“That sounds like something a man planning a divorce would say.”
“I’m not planning a divorce.”
“Then prove it.”
I had suggested we speak to an attorney and create a proper estate plan.
Vanessa didn’t speak to me for two days.
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
My phone rang.
Vanessa.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“You need to stop messaging Brianna.”
“She messaged Jordan.”
Silence.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Just silence.
I stood.
“You knew she contacted us.”
“Marcus, she is upset.”
“She admitted you made her lie.”
“She’s sixteen.”
“She was sixteen when you expected me to throw my son out based on her word.”
“That’s different.”
“No, Vanessa. It isn’t.”
I heard her breathing change.
I continued.
“You wanted Jordan gone. Why?”
“I wanted peace.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He has never accepted me.”
“He has been respectful to you.”
“He tolerates me.”
“He lost his mother.”
“And there it is.”
“What?”
“He can do anything because Lisa died.”
I closed my eyes.
“Don’t use her name to justify what you did.”
“I’ve spent three years coming second to a dead woman and her son.”
Jordan heard that.
I saw the pain hit his face.
I turned away.
“This was never about Brianna being unsafe.”
Vanessa said nothing.
“It was about getting Jordan out.”
“I wanted this family to work.”
“By destroying mine?”
Her voice dropped.
“Be careful, Marcus.”
I went still.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t know everything.”
She disconnected.
Jordan stared at me.
“What is she talking about?”
I looked toward the stairs.
Then remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had brought a stack of papers into my office.
“Insurance updates,” she had told me.
I was late for work.
Yellow tabs marked several signature lines.
I had almost signed them without reading.
Then my boss called.
I shoved everything into my bottom drawer.
Vanessa had looked irritated.
“Just sign first.”
“Tonight.”
She never asked again.
I ran upstairs.
Jordan followed.
The folder was still there.
I opened it across my desk.
The first pages looked harmless.
Insurance information.
Bank details.
Beneficiary forms.
Then I reached the last section.
A quitclaim deed.
Prepared to transfer half ownership of my house to Vanessa.
My signature line was marked with a yellow tab.
Jordan leaned closer.
“She told you that was insurance?”
“Yes.”
I flipped another page.
A document granting her authority over one of my investment accounts.
Unsigned.
Prepared.
Ready.
Then a small envelope slipped onto the floor.
Jordan picked it up.
One name was written across the front.
Daniel.
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Jordan gone first.
Then house.
Then accounts.
Don’t rush Marcus.
He trusts me.
My stomach turned.
Jordan whispered, “Dad…”
I kept reading.
One final line sat at the bottom.
Once everything is signed, we can finally be together.
Jordan stepped back.
“Who’s Daniel?”
“I don’t know.”
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Jordan looked at me.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
“Marcus?”
“Who is this?”
He laughed quietly.
“You found the folder.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“How do you know that?”
“Vanessa was supposed to destroy it.”
“Who are you?”
“Tell your son to stay out of things that don’t concern him.”
I stood.
“Don’t mention my son again.”
The man chuckled.
“You still think this is about the kid?”
“What do you want?”
“The folder.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“You should reconsider.”
Then headlights swept across my office wall.
Jordan and I both turned toward the window.
A black SUV had entered my driveway.
The man on the phone said, “Look outside.”
A tall figure stepped from the vehicle.
Beard.
Dark jacket.
Phone against his ear.
He looked directly toward my upstairs window.
“You’re Daniel.”
He smiled.
May you like
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“If you think Vanessa married you only for the house, Marcus, you haven’t found the worst document yet.”
