Chapter 8 - Bernadette Comes Back for Her ThingsBernadette returned to the mansion under supervision.
Darius was not home.
That was deliberate.
Detective Price had recommended separation while the child-protection review continued.
Marcellus stood in the foyer as his mother entered.
She looked around as though measuring what had changed.
Her eyes stopped where the dog crate had been.
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
Bernadette’s mouth tightened.
“You’re making this theatrical.”
Marcellus stared at her.
“You put a child inside it.”
“For less than—”
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
A retired police officer hired as a neutral property supervisor stood nearby.
Imani was also present.
Bernadette collected clothing, jewelry, photographs, and personal papers from the east wing.
Then she entered the foyer.
Her eyes moved to the empty console table.
The broken vase was gone.
“What did you find?”
Marcellus said nothing.
Bernadette laughed softly.
“Isaiah’s little treasure hunt?”
“You knew about the key.”
“I knew he hid documents.”
“Why didn’t you find them?”
“Because your father enjoyed making everything dramatic near the end.”
Marcellus’s face hardened.
“He recorded you.”
That hit.
Bernadette stopped.
“What recording?”
He saw fear.
Not guilt yet.
Fear of the unknown.
Marcellus understood why lawyers warned people not to reveal evidence unnecessarily.
He had already said too much.
Imani stepped in.
“We’re not discussing disputed financial matters today.”
Bernadette looked at her.
“Still protecting him, Imani?”
“I represent him.”
“You represented Isaiah.”
“Yes.”
“And failed to protect this family from being torn apart.”
Imani remained calm.
“Your definition of protection appears to require a great deal of secrecy.”
Bernadette turned away.
Before leaving, she stopped near the front door.
“Marcellus.”
He looked at her.
“I did not steal from your son.”
“You used his trust.”
“The loan was repaid with interest.”
“You didn’t disclose your interest in Briar Oak.”
Her face tightened.
“Your father would have done the same thing if he believed in the project.”
“But he didn’t.”
Bernadette looked toward Isaiah’s portrait.
“He stopped believing in me.”
The sentence surprised Marcellus.
Not the project.
Her.
For a moment she looked less like a strategist and more like a wife who had spent years fighting a marriage she believed she had earned.
Then the hardness returned.
“You have no idea what it was like building everything beside a man who let everyone call it his.”
Marcellus said quietly, “Then you should have fought him about credit. Not taken money.”
Bernadette’s eyes flashed.
“You sound exactly like him.”
“Maybe he was right.”
That wounded her more than anything else.
Bernadette left.
That night Darius asked, “Was she here?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask about me?”
Marcellus hesitated.
“No.”
Darius looked hurt.
Marcellus hated that too.
“You wanted her to?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer was honest.
Darius had loved Bernadette.
She had cooked breakfast.
Driven him to school.
Taught him chess.
Bought him ridiculous birthday cakes.
And then she had slapped him, dragged him across the floor, and put him in a crate.
Children did not erase years of attachment in fifteen seconds.
Marcellus sat beside him.
“You can miss somebody and still not be safe around them.”
Darius looked down.
“Do you miss her?”
Marcellus thought carefully.
“Yes.”
Darius looked surprised.
“I’m angry with her too.”
“Both?”
“Both.”
Darius leaned against him.
A few minutes later he whispered, “She used to tell me Grandpa trusted her more than you.”
Marcellus stiffened.
“When?”
“A lot.”
“What else did she say?”
“That someday you’d sell everything.”
Marcellus frowned.
“The company?”
“The house.”
“Why?”
“She said you don’t understand family history.”
That sounded like Bernadette.
Darius continued.
“She said if you ever tried to make her leave, I should tell you Grandma belongs here.”
Marcellus felt anger rise.
Bernadette had been recruiting a child into an adult property dispute.
“Did she tell you why?”
“She said Grandpa promised.”
The lifetime-residence agreement.
Bernadette had prepared even Darius to defend it.
Then Darius said something else.
“She showed me a paper once.”
“What paper?”
“A map of the house.”
Marcellus’s heartbeat changed.
“Exhibit B?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she do with it?”
Darius thought.
“She ripped off the bottom.”
Marcellus stared.
The original Exhibit B Bernadette produced was “lost.”
Darius had seen her with a house plan.
And remembered her tearing part away.
If accurate, Bernadette might have intentionally removed the termination clause from the residence agreement.
May you like
That was no longer merely a family disagreement.
It was potential evidence tampering in a civil dispute.
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