Chapter 6 - THE WATCH MY DAUGHTER BOUGHT BACK
The yellow flame of the lighter reflected off the gold surface of my father’s watch.
My mother froze. The lighter hovered inches above the gasoline-soaked floor.
“Where did you get that?” I breathed, staring at the watch in my daughter’s small hands.
“Mr. Henderson at the jewelry store,” Sophie said, her voice shaking but brave. “He recognized Grandpa’s name on the back when you sold it. He never put it in the display case. He kept it in his safe. I’ve been giving him my allowance every week for two years to buy it back for your birthday.”
Tears burned my eyes. While my mother and sister were plotting to steal my child, my child had been secretly sacrificing everything to give me back a piece of my father.
“Grandma,” Sophie said, looking directly at my mother. “Grandpa’s watch is broken. Mr. Henderson said the hands haven’t moved since the day he died. They’re stuck at exactly 8:15.”
My mother stared at the watch, her breathing ragged. “I don’t care about a broken watch! Put it down!”
“Look at the grandfather clock, Mom,” I said softly.
My mother’s eyes flicked to the massive clock behind her. The brass hands on the large, ornate face were not moving. They were permanently fixed at 8:15.
“He stopped the clock,” I realized aloud. “Dad stopped the grandfather clock at the exact same time as his wristwatch before he died.”
I reached into the open cabinet of the grandfather clock and pulled out the heavy metal lockbox. It had a combination dial on the front. Four numbers.
I spun the dial. Eight. One. Five. Zero.
The lock clicked open with a heavy, satisfying thud.
“No!” my mother shrieked. She lunged forward, not to drop the lighter, but to grab the box from my hands.
As she moved, Natalie finally broke out of her paralysis. My sister, the woman who had spent her entire life stepping on me to elevate herself, suddenly threw her body weight against our mother.
They crashed to the floor. The lighter flew from my mother’s hand.
It clattered across the dry portion of the hardwood floor, sliding dangerously close to the edge of the gasoline puddle, before Arthur Sterling slammed his heavy leather shoe down on top of it, extinguishing the flame instantly.
The house plunged into darkness, save for the moonlight.
My mother lay on the floor, weeping hysterically. Natalie sat beside her, burying her face in her hands, entirely broken.
“Open it, Rebecca,” Arthur said softly, removing his foot from the crushed lighter.
I knelt on the floor, pulling Sophie close to my side. I lifted the lid of the metal box.
Inside, resting on top of a stack of legal documents, was a thick, leather-bound journal. And sitting right beside it was a single, sparkling diamond ring.
My mother looked up from the floor, her eyes locking onto the ring. She let out a guttural, agonizing sob.
“My engagement ring,” my mother cried, reaching out with a trembling hand. “I thought I lost it ten years ago.”
I picked up the ring. It was stunning. But beneath it was a folded piece of paper with my mother’s name written on it.
I unfolded it and read my father’s final words to his wife aloud.
Patricia. If you are reading this, it means you failed to break Rebecca. I took your ring the day I found out you were secretly funneling our retirement savings into Natalie’s failing business. I kept it as collateral for the lies you told me.
My mother covered her ears, unable to bear the sound of my father’s truth.
I knew you would try to take the house from Rebecca, the letter continued. I knew you would try to make her feel worthless so she wouldn't fight you for it. But Rebecca has something you and Natalie will never understand. She has integrity. The deed to this house, the remaining funds in the family trust, and the legal guardianship protections for Sophie are all in this box.
I looked at the stack of documents beneath the journal.
I am sorry I wasn't strong enough to stop your cruelty while I was alive, Patricia. But I have ensured you will never hurt my girls again. The house is Rebecca’s. You have thirty days to vacate.
The silence in the dark hallway was deafening.
My father hadn't just left me a house. He had spent his final days orchestrating an impenetrable fortress to protect me and my daughter from the two women who were supposed to love us.
“It’s over,” Arthur Sterling said quietly. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the police. Natalie, you need to answer for the forged loans. Patricia, you need to answer for the attempted arson.”
Natalie didn't fight. She just nodded, her spirit completely crushed.
But my mother slowly pushed herself up from the floor. She looked at me, her eyes devoid of any maternal warmth. It was the look of a pure, cornered predator.
“You think you’ve won, Rebecca?” my mother whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re getting a million-dollar property?”
She pointed a shaking finger at the leather journal in the box.
May you like
“Read the journal. Read what your perfect father really did to buy this house. Because if you claim that property, Rebecca… you’re going to lose Sophie forever.”
TITLE: THE SECRET BURIED IN MY FATHER’S JOURNAL
