Chapter 2: The Man With Vanessa's Number
That evening, Daniel knocked on my bedroom door alone.
He sat on the edge of the chair by the window — the one Vanessa hadn't managed to remove yet — and he couldn't look at me directly.
"Mom, I need you to understand.
Vanessa just wants things to feel more…
organized."
"Organized," I repeated.
"Is that what you call it?"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"She's been stressed.
The renovation costs more than we planned.
She thinks if we all had clear boundaries—"
"Daniel." My voice was quiet but firm.
"Look at me."
He finally did.
"Has Vanessa spoken to anyone about this house?
A lawyer.
An agent.
Anyone like that?"
Something crossed his face.
Just for a second.
Then it was gone.
"No," he said.
"Of course not."
But his hands told a different story.
He pressed them flat against his knees the way he used to do as a boy when he was hiding something from his father.
I let the silence sit between us.
Then my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A message from my neighbor Carol, who had known me for thirty years.
*Margaret — I need to tell you something.
A man came to my door last week asking questions about your house.
He said he was a property assessor.
But he had Vanessa's number written on his card.*
I looked up at Daniel.
His face had gone completely still.
---
What was Vanessa really setting in motion — and how much did Daniel already know?
The full truth is in the link below, and it's worse than you think.
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