Chapter 7
Robert drove like a man chasing his own blindness.
Lydia called police.
Henry insisted on coming.
Clara sat beside me in the back seat, twisting a tissue into pieces.
The old family house stood on the edge of town, locked since Robert’s mother died.
Evelyn had always claimed it was too painful to sell.
Now I knew better.
Secrets need storage.
The police met us there.
Daniel gave them the code.
Robert did not look at him.
That silence hurt Daniel more than shouting would have.
The wine cellar door was hidden behind shelves in the basement.
Inside were filing cabinets.
Hard drives.
Cash.
Jewelry.
Passports.
And labeled folders.
Robert.
Daniel.
Clara.
Henry.
Emily.
My stomach turned when Lydia opened mine.
Photos of me.
Bank forms.
A fake confession letter.
Screenshots of messages edited to make me sound unstable.
Medical records I never gave permission for anyone to access.
Clara opened her own folder and began sobbing.
Robert reached for his.
Then stopped.
Henry took it instead.
He read one page.
His face hardened.
“Robert.”
“What?”
“Your wife has been medicating you.”
The room went still.
Robert blinked.
“What?”
Henry handed him a pharmacy record.
Prescriptions under Robert’s name.
Sedatives.
Memory medication.
Anti-anxiety drugs.
All ordered through a doctor named Alan Price.
Robert whispered, “I’ve never seen him.”
Daniel covered his mouth.
“Mom said Dad was declining.”
Lydia looked at the cabinets.
“She wasn’t only stealing money. She was building incompetency.”
Police bagged everything.
Then an officer shouted from the next room.
We ran in.
On the wall was a safe.
Inside was a marriage certificate.
Evelyn and Martin.
May you like
Dated twelve years ago.
While Robert was still married to her.
