Before I could answer, a second siren became audible.
Closer this time.
Charles looked toward the driveway.
Courtney stopped laughing.
Her arms slowly dropped from her chest.
“Dad…”
Charles ignored her.
His attention remained fixed on the phone.
“You’re telling me the account is frozen?”
Another pause.
“Under whose authority?”
His face went pale.
“What attorney?”
I heard Samantha inhale sharply.
“Victoria,” she whispered, “I need you to trust me.”
“I do.”
“Lucas didn’t just leave you a house.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“He left instructions.”
“What kind of instructions?”
“Instructions that were only supposed to be opened after his death.”
The words hit me harder than the pain in my scalp.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he specifically instructed me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t trust everyone around you.”
My eyes drifted toward the house.
My father was still standing in the study doorway.
Three weeks ago, I had buried my husband.
Three weeks ago, I had believed the worst thing that could ever happen to me had already happened.
I had been wrong.
Charles suddenly slammed his phone onto the desk.
“You’ve made a mistake,” he shouted.
The person on the other end apparently said something else.
Charles picked the phone up again.
His voice dropped.
“You listen to me. I’m her father.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
That was always his answer.
He was my father.
As though the word itself gave him ownership over me.
My childhood.
My decisions.
My money.
My house.
My life.
Even now, with my husband’s child inside me, he apparently believed I was still the frightened girl who used to stand silently in the hallway while he argued with my mother.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Lucas promised me.”
I opened my eyes.
Samantha heard it too.
“Did he just say Lucas promised him something?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly?”
“I don’t know.”
My father’s voice rose.
“He told me before the accident that the company would be mine if anything happened!”
Silence.
Even Courtney looked at him differently.
My father’s face changed the instant he realized what he had said.
He had forgotten I was listening.
Or perhaps he simply hadn’t believed I mattered anymore.
Then the front door opened.
Two police officers stepped onto the porch.
One was a woman, probably in her forties.
The other was younger.
The woman immediately crouched beside me.
“Ma’am, are you Victoria Gallagher?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Ramirez. An ambulance is right behind us.”
Her eyes moved to the blood near my knee and then to my face.
“Did someone assault you?”
I looked through the doorway.
My father stood motionless.
“Yes.”
Officer Ramirez followed my gaze.
“Who?”
“My father.”
Courtney immediately stepped forward.
“That isn’t what happened.”
Officer Ramirez stood.
“Ma’am, stay where you are.”
Courtney stopped.
“My father grabbed me by the hair,” I said. “He dragged me out of my house. My water broke afterward.”
The younger officer moved toward Charles.
Charles raised both hands.
“This is a family dispute.”
Officer Ramirez’s expression didn’t change.
“She says you assaulted her.”
“She is grieving. She’s confused.”
“I am not confused.”
My voice sounded weak.
But it carried.
Charles stared at me.
For years, that look had been enough to make me apologize.
This time, I didn’t look away.
Officer Ramirez asked, “Do you have security cameras?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
Charles’s face changed.
There were cameras outside.
Lucas had installed them after a package theft two years earlier.
I had completely forgotten about them.
My father hadn’t.
He turned toward the driveway.
“Those cameras don’t work.”
I stared at him.
“How would you know?”
He didn’t answer.
Officer Ramirez noticed.
“Sir, step outside.”
Charles hesitated.
Then he obeyed.
Courtney followed him.
The younger officer remained near the doorway.
“Ma’am, an ambulance crew will take care of you. Do you need anything from inside?”
I looked at the house.
Everything Lucas and I had built together was inside.
Our photographs.
His books.
His watch on the nightstand.
The blue blanket he always complained was too warm.
The nursery we had spent months preparing.
And somewhere inside that house, apparently, was a secret my husband had been planning around.
“No,” I whispered.
Then I remembered something.
“Samantha?”
“Yes?”
“You said Lucas left instructions.”
“I did.”
“What were they?”
“I can tell you now.”
My heart started beating faster.
“But there is something you need to understand first.”
“What?”
“Lucas didn’t believe your father’s problem was money.”
I stared at the open doorway.
“Then what was it?”
Samantha was silent for several seconds.
“Control.”
The ambulance arrived.
The paramedics rushed toward me.
One of them placed a blanket around my shoulders while another checked my pulse.
“Ma’am, we’re taking you to the hospital.”
I nodded.
As they helped me onto the stretcher, I looked back one last time.
My father stood beside the patrol car.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
He was looking at the house.
More specifically, at Lucas’s study.
And then I saw Courtney lean toward him.
She whispered something into his ear.
My father suddenly looked terrified.
Not angry.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
I wanted to ask what she had said.
But the ambulance doors closed.
And the world disappeared behind them.
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