Chapter 2 - THE MESSAGES SHE HID
I sat there with Noah in my arms until the upstairs doors finally stopped slamming.
Vanessa came down twenty minutes later. She carried two large suitcases. Her eyes were red, but she didn’t look at me. She didn’t look at Noah either.
She walked straight to the front door.
“Vanessa,” I said.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob.
“You’ll regret this,” she said without turning around. “You’ll push away everyone who cares about you, Adrian. Just like she did.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she pulled the door open and stepped out. The door slammed shut behind her.
Gone.
But her words hung in the air. Just like she did.
I shook it off. I had more important things to worry about.
That night, Noah slept in my bed. He fell asleep holding the cracked photograph against his chest. I stayed up long after his breathing turned soft and even. I sat in the chair beside the bed, watching him. Thinking.
Vanessa had been in our house for six months. Six months of quiet comments. Six months of subtle jabs I’d chosen to ignore. I’d told myself she was just strict. Just old-fashioned. Just trying to help.
I’d been blind.
And now I had to wonder—what else had I missed?
I stood up and walked down the hall to the guest room. Vanessa’s room. She’d packed quickly. Maybe too quickly.
I turned on the light.
The room was neat. The bed was made. The closet was empty. The drawers were mostly cleared. But in the very back of the bottom drawer, beneath some old wrapping paper, I found it.
A phone.
Not her work phone. Not the one I’d seen her use every day.
A second, cheap burner phone. Black. Scratched. Password protected.
My stomach tightened.
I picked it up. It felt warm, like she’d been holding it recently. Like she’d meant to pack it and forgotten in her rush.
I carried it to the kitchen. Sat down at the table. Stared at it.
Why would she have a secret phone? Who was she talking to?
I thought about the way she’d acted when I pulled up the security footage. The way she’d panicked. The way she’d known exactly what was on the video before she even saw it.
And then I remembered something else.
Claire had died six months before Vanessa arrived.
Six months. Exactly.
My hands shook as I picked up the phone again. I didn’t know the passcode. But I knew something about Vanessa. She was lazy with details. She used the same number for everything. Her birthday.
I typed it in.
The screen unlocked.
My breath caught.
There were only three conversations saved. All with the same number. No name. Just a string of digits.
I started reading from the top—the oldest messages first.
*He trusts her completely. Thinks she’s a blessing. She’s already in the house.*
*Good. Keep her there. Make sure she reports everything. Every conversation. Every document. Every photo.*
*He’s starting to ask questions about the will. About the money Claire left behind.*
*Tell her to keep him distracted. Keep him confused. If he gets too close… make sure he doubts himself. Make him doubt Claire.*
My blood ran cold.
I scrolled down.
The messages got more recent. More urgent.
*She found the photo today. The one Claire left for the boy. She broke it. He’s suspicious now.*
*Be careful. If he finds the phone… everything falls apart. Tell her to destroy it. Or get rid of him.*
The last message had been sent just hours before I walked into the kitchen.
*He’s home early. Something went wrong. She knows.*
And then a reply.
*If he finds out… you know what to do. Remember what we agreed. The boy is leverage. Claire isn’t here to protect him anymore.*
I dropped the phone onto the table.
It clattered loud against the wood.
Vanessa hadn’t just been a cruel woman who lost her temper. She’d been planted. Sent. To spy on us. To report back to someone.
And whoever that someone was… they knew about Claire. They knew about the will. They knew everything.
And they were willing to use Noah.
I grabbed the phone. Scrolled to the number. Tried to call it.
The call failed. Disconnected. Not in service.
A dead end.
I sat there in the dim kitchen light, staring at those words. Claire isn’t here to protect him anymore.
Who was she protecting him from? Who was behind this?
I thought about everything Vanessa had done. The way she’d acted. The things she’d said. And suddenly, every single comment she’d ever made about Claire felt different.
*Claire was always so dramatic.*
*Claire never knew how to take care of herself.*
*Claire left everything such a mess when she died.*
She hadn’t just been insulting Claire. She’d been planting seeds. Making me doubt. Making me wonder if Claire had been hiding something.
But what?
And who was pulling Vanessa’s strings?
I stood up and walked back to the bedroom. Noah was still asleep. The cracked photograph lay on the pillow beside him.
I picked it up. Turned it over.
There was something written on the back. In Claire’s handwriting. Faded. I’d never noticed it before.
*If anything happens to me, protect Noah. Trust no one. Not even the people who seem like family.*
My heart hammered in my chest.
She knew.
Claire had known someone would come for us. She’d known before she died. And she’d left me a warning. Right there on the back of her photograph.
I looked down at the phone in my hand. At those messages. At the threats against my son.
Whoever had sent Vanessa… they weren’t done. She’d failed. And now they would come themselves.
Claire had left me a warning. But she hadn’t left me a name.
I picked up my own phone. Scrolled through my contacts until I found the one person Claire had always said we could trust. Her lawyer. Marcus.
I called him.
He answered on the second ring.
May you like
“Adrian? It’s late. Is everything all right?”
“I need to see you,” I said. “Now. Something has happened. And I think… I think Claire knew it would.”
