Chapter 3 - THE HOSPITAL ROOM
The hospital room was quiet by midnight.
That felt almost unnatural after the chaos of the party.
The doctors told me I needed observation and rest.
My injured leg had been aggravated, but nothing suggested that the original injury had been seriously worsened.
The cut near my hairline required treatment.
My shoulder would be sore for a while.
Daniel sat beside the window with both hands wrapped around a paper cup of coffee he had not touched.
Noah was staying with Aunt Carol.
Rachel had been told not to contact me while investigators sorted through the statements and video.
Dad had also been removed from the house.
Neither had been allowed into the hospital.
Daniel stared at the floor.
“I should have known.”
“You weren’t there.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
I looked at him.
He continued.
“I was never there.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
He finally looked at me.
“Every time Rachel complained about you, I tried to keep the peace.”
I said nothing.
“She said you were difficult.”
I looked toward the dark window.
“She said you hated her.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t always know.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“No.”
I appreciated that he didn’t pretend otherwise.
For years, Rachel had been good at turning ordinary moments into evidence against me.
If I declined dinner, I was rude.
If I attended dinner, I was demanding attention.
If I bought Noah an expensive birthday gift, I was showing off.
If I bought something simple, I did not care enough.
There was no correct answer.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Why was Dad so angry at you?”
I looked at him.
“You really don’t know?”
His confusion appeared genuine.
“The house.”
“What house?”
“Mom’s house.”
Daniel sat back.
“Our childhood house?”
I nodded.
His eyebrows pulled together.
“What does that have to do with Rachel?”
“Three weeks ago, Dad asked me to sign papers transferring my share.”
Daniel stared at me.
“What share?”
Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Mom left the house to both of us.”
Daniel stood.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She left Dad the house.”
“She left Dad the right to live there.”
“That’s not what he told me.”
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
“When Mom died, her attorney met with us.”
“He met with you and Dad.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I was traveling for work.”
“Dad told me you had received copies.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I never saw anything.”
I reached for my phone.
My hands were still unsteady.
“There’s an email.”
I searched through old messages.
Then I found it.
The subject line read: MERCER FAMILY ESTATE DOCUMENTS.
I opened the attached summary.
Daniel moved beside me.
We read it together.
Our mother had placed the house into a family trust.
Daniel and I were equal beneficiaries.
Dad had lifetime occupancy rights but could not sell, transfer, refinance, or substantially alter the property without our agreement.
Daniel read the paragraph twice.
Then he whispered, “Why would he lie to me?”
“I don’t know.”
Another memory surfaced.
“Rachel knew.”
Daniel looked at me.
“What?”
“She mentioned my share during an argument last month.”
His expression went still.
“What exactly did she say?”
I remembered every word.
“She said I was selfish for refusing to give up something I didn’t need.”
Daniel stared at the document.
“I never told her about this because I didn’t know.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Daniel sat again.
“So Rachel knew something about Mom’s estate that I didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad wanted your signature.”
“Yes.”
“What were the papers?”
“I didn’t read all of them.”
“Do you still have them?”
“I took pictures.”
Daniel looked at me sharply.
I opened my photo folder.
The first page appeared on the screen.
Daniel read the heading.
Then he slowly stood.
“That isn’t a transfer.”
“What?”
“That’s a consent form for a loan.”
I stared at him.
He enlarged the image.
At the bottom of the page was the amount.
$310,000.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
May you like
Then Daniel looked toward the hospital door.
“I think tonight started long before the birthday party.”
