Chapter 10 - The Box And The Second Truth
I stared at the heavy cardstock in my hand. The handwriting was elegant, sharp, and unmistakably Diane’s. Even in defeat, even stripped of her wealth and social standing, she couldn't resist one final attempt to plant poison in my home.
You don't know the whole truth about your first husband.
I looked up. Jason was still in the living room, laughing as Oliver climbed onto his back, pretending he was a horse. Ava was watching them, a genuine, unguarded smile on her face. For the first time in her life, she had a father who wasn't treating her like a burden.
I looked back at the locked wooden box on the counter.
Part of me wanted to throw it directly into the garbage. Diane was a venomous snake. Whatever was inside this box was designed to ruin the fragile peace we had just built.
But another part of me—the part that had ignored the warning signs with Matthew for eight years—demanded to know. I had promised myself I would never be blind again.
I dug through the kitchen junk drawer and pulled out a flathead screwdriver and a heavy hammer. I wedged the screwdriver beneath the brass padlock hinge and struck it hard with the hammer. Once. Twice. On the third strike, the cheap metal snapped.
I pulled the padlock off and opened the lid.
Inside the box lay a collection of old, yellowed documents, bound together by a rubber band. Beneath them rested a small, tarnished silver locket.
I pulled the documents out. They were bank statements. Very old bank statements from nearly a decade ago, dating back to the year Jason and I got divorced.
I flipped through them, my brow furrowing in confusion. They were copies of Jason’s old checking account. But there were massive, unexplained deposits highlighted in yellow ink.$15,000.$20,000.$10,000.
And attached to the back of the final statement was a printed email. It was dated exactly one month before Jason served me with divorce papers.
To: Diane HayesFrom: Jason MillerSubject: The AgreementI’ll take the money. I’ll sign the papers and leave Rachel. Just make sure she gets the house.
The kitchen suddenly felt devoid of oxygen.
I leaned against the counter, the paper trembling in my hands. Matthew hadn't stolen me from Jason. Diane had bought me.
Before I even knew Matthew, Diane had identified me as a target. Why? I scanned the rest of the documents. There was a medical file. My medical file from the fertility clinic Jason and I had visited years ago when we struggled to have a second child. The file highlighted a specific genetic bloodline—a rare O-negative marker.
Matthew’s family had a history of severe genetic blood disorders. Diane had been obsessed with securing a healthy biological heir for the Hayes legacy. She hadn't just wanted a wife for her son; she had shopped for an incubator. And she had paid my first husband to walk away so Matthew could swoop in as the savior.
“Mom?”
I jumped, dropping the papers. Ava was standing in the doorway, holding a glass for water. She looked at the smashed padlock, then at my pale face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, sweetie,” I lied, quickly sweeping the papers back into the box. “Just... old junk mail.”
But as I moved, the tarnished silver locket rolled across the granite counter and stopped near the edge. Ava saw it.
She reached out and picked it up. Her thumb brushed over the intricate floral engraving on the front.
“This is mine,” she whispered.
I froze. “What do you mean, baby? I’ve never seen that before.”
“Dad gave it to me,” Ava said, her voice trembling slightly. “When I was four. Right before he left. He told me it was my grandmother's and that he would come back for it when I was old enough to wear it.”
I looked at the living room. Jason was standing up, dusting his knees off. He caught my eye through the open doorway. His smile faded instantly when he saw the wooden box on the counter and the locket in Ava’s hand.
He knew.
“Ava,” Jason said, walking slowly into the kitchen. His voice was tight, filled with a sudden, suffocating panic. “Where did you get that?”
“A box came,” Ava said, holding it out to him. “Did you send it?”
Jason looked at me. His eyes were wide, pleading. Don't do this, his expression begged. Not in front of her.
May you like
I looked at the man who had abandoned me. The man who had taken Diane’s money to leave his family, only to come back eight years later pretending to be a victim of Matthew’s extortion. He had played me twice.
“Jason,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I think it’s time you tell your daughter why you really left us in North Carolina.”
