The walls still had picture hooks and marks where furniture had once stood.
The kitchen cabinets Richard built remained, of course.
So did the appliances.
But the rooms were empty.
Except for the bookshelf.
Derek walked into the living room and stopped.
He stood in front of it for a long time.
Then he crouched.
Morgan moved around the room behind him, clearly trying to understand what had happened.
Derek didn’t move.
He placed one hand on the shelf.
Turned it slightly.
And I knew exactly what he was looking at.
Dad and me.
Then he noticed the envelope.
He picked it up.
Sat cross-legged on the white oak floor the same way he used to sit there as a child.
And began reading.
Morgan stood over his shoulder.
I watched Derek’s hands.
People’s hands often reveal what their faces are trying to hide.
I learned that from decades in court.
The moment he reached the market analysis, his hands became very still.
Then he turned to the page containing Gavin’s handwritten calculations.
He looked at Morgan.
She leaned over and read it too.
Her expression changed.
First surprise.
Then recognition.
Then fear.
Derek asked her something.
The security camera had no useful audio, so I couldn’t hear him.
But I suspected I knew the question.
Not why.
Not what were you planning.
When?
The market analysis had been ordered three months before the wedding.
Which meant that months before saying vows to my son, Morgan was already calculating what could be done with a property she expected his mother to give them.
