Helen released a heavy breath.
“Who could I have told? Margaret has always been dangerous. After I came back, she found me quickly. She warned me that if I ever spoke, my life would become very difficult. I had just gone through a divorce. I was alone and had no one to protect me. I was afraid.”
“Why tell me now?”
Helen looked at her with genuine pity.
“Because that woman will destroy you, Claire. If you don’t understand who you’re dealing with, she will consume you. And Daniel…” Helen’s voice softened. “Daniel has been trapped inside her for years.”
Claire did not return home until just before dawn.
The apartment was dark and silent.
She switched on the light in the entryway—and froze.
The living room had been ransacked.
Drawers stood open.
Clothes and belongings were strewn across the floor.
The wardrobe doors gaped wide.
Claire walked into the bedroom.
The safe Daniel had bought three years earlier, assuring her that “it would be safer this way,” was open.
The combination had always been his date of birth.
Claire had asked him dozens of times to change it.
He never had.
She looked inside.
Empty.
The cash was gone.
The jewelry was gone.
Her grandmother’s ring.
Her mother’s chain.
The earrings her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday.
Everything had disappeared.
But the worst discovery was the missing folder containing the property documents.
Claire slowly lowered herself to the floor.
Her body began to tremble.
Still, she could not cry.
An enormous, frozen emptiness had opened inside her, as if someone had reached in and pulled out every feeling at once.
She took out her phone and called Mark, an estate agent she knew.
“Mark, I’m sorry for calling so early. Did Margaret Mercer happen to contact you? Yes, my mother-in-law. About selling the apartment?”
Silence answered her from the other end.
“Claire, don’t panic. She came by two days ago. She wanted a buyer immediately. She told me that her son and his wife were separating and the property had to be sold as quickly as possible. But she didn’t have all the documents, so I sent her away.”
“Thank you.”
Claire ended the call.
She was still sitting on the floor with the phone pressed to her chest when the doorbell rang.
She did not move.
The bell sounded again.
At last, Claire got up, crossed the hall, and looked through the peephole.
Daniel stood outside holding a bouquet of flowers.
She opened the door.
“Hi,” he said with a guilty smile. “Claire, can I come in? I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should talk.”
He reached toward her, preparing to embrace her.
She stepped back.
“Why were you here during the night?”
Daniel froze.
“During the night? I wasn’t here.”
“Then who turned the apartment upside down and emptied the safe?”
His face drained of color.
“I don’t know. Maybe… Mom?”
“Mom,” Claire repeated. “Of course. The same mother you gave a spare key to without even discussing it with me.”
Daniel lowered his head.
“Claire, I…”
“What?”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“Did you come to apologize? Or did your mother send you to negotiate again?”
Daniel remained silent.
Then Claire noticed him glance automatically toward the window, as if checking whether anyone was waiting outside.
“I understand,” she said. “Leave.”
“Claire, I really want to fix this.”
“Then start with something simple. Return my money. Return every piece of jewelry. Return the property documents. After that, tell your mother she will never cross the threshold of this home again.”
Daniel swallowed nervously.
“You know what state she’s in. She’s upset. She has a heart condition.”
“And I have a heart too.” Claire pressed a hand to her chest. “There’s nothing left in it now. Thanks to you.”
She shut the door in his face and secured the chain.
Then she went back into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, daylight filled the room.
Several hours must have passed.
Claire forced herself to stand, wash, and change clothes.
The decision had been made.
She was leaving.
But before she did, she needed to find anything that might be useful later.
She began sorting through the possessions Margaret had somehow overlooked.
At the far end of the closet, behind several shoe boxes, Claire noticed an old cardboard box packed with children’s drawings.
She had never known the hiding place existed.
She pulled it out and opened the lid.
Inside were yellowed sheets of paper.
There were drawings of airplanes, clouds, sky, and a man in a pilot’s uniform.
On the back of one page, written in childish handwriting, were the words:
“Dad is a pilot. When I grow up, I’ll fly far, far away too.”
Another said:
“Mom said that if I’m bad, she’ll send me back to the children’s home.”
A chill traveled down Claire’s spine.
She continued searching through the papers.
Beneath the drawings lay an old school notebook.
A child’s diary.
The entries had been written by a boy of about ten.
“Mom said I’m not really her son. She took me from a home. If I don’t obey, she’ll send me back.”