Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE I NEVER SOLD
I bought the Malibu property when I was twenty-eight.
It wasn’t some enormous celebrity mansion overlooking the Pacific.
At least, it hadn’t been when I bought it.
It was a neglected three-bedroom house on a narrow piece of coastal land that most buyers ignored because the plumbing was ancient, the roof leaked, and half the deck had to be rebuilt.
My father loved it.
He spent two summers helping me restore it.
After he died, I couldn’t bring myself to sell.
So I hired a property management company and rented it selectively while I lived closer to work.
That was how I met Claire Morgan.
Claire had managed the property for almost seven years.
When Daniel and I became engaged, I told him about Malibu.
He knew everything.
I even suggested we live there.
Daniel refused.
“My mother is alone,” he said. “A couple years with her would mean everything.”
I agreed.
Two years became four.
Somewhere along the way, Daniel stopped mentioning Malibu.
Whenever Linda asked about my finances, he changed the subject.
I thought he was respecting my privacy.
Standing in that kitchen, watching the color drain from his face, I began wondering if there had been another reason.
Linda flipped through the property photographs.
“This proves nothing.”
“It proves enough.”
“You own a beach house and let my son pay expenses here?”
I almost laughed.
“Daniel hasn’t paid the household expenses in nineteen months.”
Daniel winced.
Linda turned toward him.
He said nothing.
I continued.
“I paid for your new HVAC system. I paid the property taxes when Daniel’s business account was empty. I paid for the kitchen appliances you’re standing beside.”
“That was your responsibility.”
“No, Linda. It was generosity.”
Her jaw tightened.
I picked up my key fob.
“I think we’ve confused those two things long enough.”
Then the front door opened.
Claire stepped inside carrying a small suitcase.
She was impeccably dressed as always, calm enough to make Linda look even more frantic.
“Morning, Emily.”
Linda looked between us.
“You know her?”
Claire ignored the question.
“Your room is ready. I brought the things you asked me to store.”
Daniel stared at the suitcase.
“What things?”
I hadn’t asked Claire to bring anything except old personal records.
At least, that was what I thought was inside.
Then she looked at Daniel.
And something about her expression made my stomach tighten.
“Emily,” she said carefully, “before you leave with me, there’s something you need to see.”
Daniel took one step forward.
“Claire, this isn’t necessary.”
That was when I knew.
May you like
Whatever she had brought—
Daniel knew about it.
