Chapter 2: The Secret Behind the Front Door
I didn't sleep much that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Vanessa's voice.
There are some family matters that really don't concern everyone.
The words bothered me because I couldn't understand what family matter could possibly involve me without concerning me.
The house had belonged to my father for nearly twenty years. I remembered moving in when I was six, back when my mother was still alive and the walls were painted yellow because she insisted yellow made every room feel like sunshine.
After she died, my father had kept the house.
He'd kept her garden, too, even when the roses became difficult to maintain.
When he married Vanessa six years later, he made changes. He repainted the kitchen, replaced the old dining table, and allowed Vanessa to turn the guest bathroom into a room filled with expensive skincare products.
But the house had always felt like my father's home.
I'd never questioned that.
Now I lay awake wondering whether there was something I didn't know.
At seven the next morning, I found Marcus in the backyard trimming the hedges.
He wore an old baseball cap and a faded T-shirt, and he had his reading glasses balanced on the end of his nose.
“Morning, Dad.””
He looked up.
“Morning, sweetheart. You look tired.””
“Couldn't sleep.””
He set the shears down.
“Everything okay?””
I hesitated.
“Can I ask you something?””
“Anything.””
I looked toward the house.
“Is there something going on with Vanessa?””
My father sighed.
Not an irritated sigh. A tired one.
“She's been under a lot of pressure lately.””
“What kind of pressure?””
“Work. Money. Family stuff.””
“Does it have something to do with me staying here?””
He looked genuinely surprised.
“Why would you think that?””
I could have told him about the coffee mug, the comments, and the way Vanessa's face changed whenever he left the room.
Instead, I remembered Ethan's warning.
“Because she seems uncomfortable with me being here.””
Marcus wiped his hands on his trousers.
“Nia, I know Vanessa can be difficult sometimes. But she's adjusting to having another person in the house.””
“I'm your daughter, Dad. I'm not a stranger renting a room.””
His expression softened.
“I know that.””
“Then why does she act like I'm invading her space?””
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“You belong here. Never doubt that.””
The warmth in his voice made my eyes sting.
“I'm not trying to cause problems,” I whispered.
“You aren't causing problems.””
“Promise?””
He smiled.
“Promise.””
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But when I went inside, I found Vanessa standing at the kitchen counter, reading something on her phone.
She looked up.
“Did you enjoy your little conversation with Marcus?””
I stopped.
“How did you know we were talking?””
“It's my house too, Nia. I have eyes.””
I took a breath.
“Dad and I were discussing the garden.””
“Of course.””
She placed her phone facedown.
“Listen, I think we need to establish some boundaries while you're staying here.””
I folded my arms.
“What kind of boundaries?””
“Your father is very generous. Sometimes too generous.””
“I'm not sure what that has to do with boundaries.””
Vanessa opened a drawer and removed a notepad.
“Groceries cost money. Utilities cost money. Having another adult in the house changes things.””
“I offered to contribute.””
“Yes, but you haven't actually done so.””
I stared at her.
“I've been here four days.””
“And in those four days, you've used the washing machine, the shower, the air conditioning, and the kitchen.””
For a moment, I genuinely thought she was joking.
Then I saw her face.
“You want me to pay for using the shower?””
“I want you to understand that nothing is free.””
I felt heat creeping up my neck.
“Fine. Tell me what you think is fair.””
Vanessa wrote something on the notepad.
“Five hundred dollars a month should cover your share.””
I blinked.
“Five hundred dollars?””
“That's reasonable.””
“This isn't a rented apartment, Vanessa.””
“Then perhaps you should be grateful that I'm offering you such a generous arrangement.””
I stared at her, stunned by the audacity.
Before I could answer, Marcus walked into the kitchen.
“What arrangement?””
Vanessa didn't even pause.
“We were discussing how Nia could contribute while she's staying here.””
My father looked at me.
“Sweetheart, you don't have to pay rent.””
Vanessa turned toward him.
“Marcus, please don't undermine me.””
“I'm not undermining you. I'm telling my daughter she doesn't need to pay rent to stay in her childhood home.””
“She's twenty-four, not fourteen.””
“And she's still my daughter.””
Vanessa placed the notepad on the counter with a sharp slap.
“Then perhaps you should decide whether this is a family home or a hotel where everyone gets to come and go whenever they please.””
Marcus's face hardened.
“No one is treating it like a hotel.””
“Really? Because I wasn't consulted before you invited her to move in.””
“You didn't need to be consulted about whether my daughter could stay for a few weeks.””
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the refrigerator humming.
Vanessa looked at him for several seconds.
Then she picked up her phone.
“Fine. Do whatever you want.””
She walked out of the kitchen, deliberately brushing past my shoulder.
My father exhaled.
“I'm sorry, Nia.””
I shook my head.
“You shouldn't have to apologize.””
He pulled out a chair.
“Your mother would have loved seeing you back here.””
The mention of my mother softened everything inside me.
“Do you ever think about her?”” I asked.
“Every day.””
He glanced toward the hallway, where Vanessa had disappeared.
“Some things don't stop mattering just because life changes.””
I didn't know why he said it that way.
But I remembered it.
That afternoon, I went upstairs to retrieve my laptop charger from the guest room.
As I passed Vanessa's bedroom, I heard her speaking on the phone.
Her door was almost closed.
“I told you she was coming,” Vanessa said sharply.
“No, I haven't figured it out yet.””
I slowed down.
“I don't care what Marcus promised her. That's exactly the problem.””
A pause.
Then Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“She thinks being his daughter gives her a permanent place here.””
My chest tightened.
I stepped closer before I could stop myself.
Vanessa's voice dropped.
“If she finds out what he signed, everything becomes complicated.””
My hand froze against the wall.
What had my father signed?
A document? A will? A property agreement?
Before I could hear more, a floorboard creaked beneath my foot.
The conversation stopped.
The bedroom door opened.
Vanessa stood before me, her phone still in her hand.
“What are you doing?””
I straightened.
“I was going to my room.””
“You were listening.””
“I heard you talking.””
“Then you should have kept walking.””
I stared at her.
“What did Dad sign?””
Her expression changed so quickly that I knew I had touched something real.
“Excuse me?””
“You said something about what Dad signed.””
Vanessa's fingers tightened around her phone.
“You need to learn that not every conversation in this house is your business.””
“If it's about my father, I think I have a right to ask.””
She stepped into the hallway.
“Your father is an adult. He can sign whatever documents he chooses.””
“Then why are you worried about me finding out?””
Her jaw tightened.
For the first time, I saw genuine anger beneath her carefully arranged expression.
“Because people like you always assume that being related to someone means you're entitled to everything they own.””
I recoiled as though she'd slapped me.
“People like me?””
“People who show up when they need something and expect everyone else to rearrange their lives.””
“I called Dad because my apartment is being repaired!””
“And I suppose that's a wonderful coincidence.””
I shook my head.
“You don't know anything about me.””
“I know enough.””
She moved closer.
“You should be careful, Nia. Sometimes the more you dig into family matters, the more you discover things you'd rather not know.””
Then she closed her bedroom door in my face.
I stood in the hallway, staring at the wood grain.
My hands were shaking.
I could have gone downstairs and told my father everything.
Instead, I returned to the guest room, shut the door, and sat on the edge of the bed.
For the first time since arriving, I wondered whether staying in the house was a mistake.
Then I noticed something beneath the bedside table.
A thin envelope, wedged between the table leg and the wall.
I pulled it free.
My father's name was written across the front in black ink.
There was no stamp, no return address, and no indication of who had left it there.
Inside was a folded photocopy of a legal document.
I unfolded it carefully.
At the top were the words Last Will and Testament.
My father's name appeared beneath them.
I stared at the page, trying to understand what I was looking at.
Most of the text was too small to read clearly, but one paragraph had been underlined in blue ink.
It referred to the family home.
And beneath that paragraph, in a section listing beneficiaries, was a name that made my breath catch.
*Nia Carter.*
My fingers went numb.
I read the line again.
Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
May you like
Someone stopped outside my bedroom door.
The handle began to turn.
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