Chapter 1 - What Papers?Grayson Rowan’s hands slipped against the tile as he tried to push himself upright.
“Aunt Tabitha… I’m sorry…”
Tabitha ignored him.
She held the eight-year-old firmly, forcing him downward toward the toilet.
Grayson cried harder.
His hands braced against the seat.
Then his hair and face struck the water.
Only for a brief moment.
His nose and mouth remained clear, but the humiliation hit him harder than the cold water.
Tabitha pulled him upright.
Water streamed from his brown hair.
His light shirt darkened around the collar.
He coughed once from panic, wiped his eyes with a trembling hand, and tried to crawl backward.
Tabitha stood over him.
“Sorry for what?”
Grayson shook his head.
“I—I don’t know.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You’re nothing but a bastard.”
Down the hallway, Bernice Carter stopped walking.
The fifty-eight-year-old house manager had worked inside the Rowan home for almost twenty years.
She knew Tabitha’s moods.
Cold sarcasm.
Sharp orders.
Resentment toward Grayson’s late mother.
But this was different.
Bernice moved behind the hallway wall.
Slowly.
Silently.
She raised her phone.
Her hand trembled.
Inside the bathroom, Grayson sobbed.
“I’ll tell Dad.”
Tabitha laughed.
Not loudly.
Almost dismissively.
“Your father doesn’t even know what’s happening inside his own house.”
Bernice’s expression hardened.
She kept recording.
Tabitha leaned closer to Grayson.
“And he doesn’t even know…”
She paused.
“…who really signed those papers.”
Bernice nearly lowered the phone.
Papers?
Grayson looked confused too.
“What papers?”
Tabitha’s face changed.
For an instant, she appeared to realize she had said too much.
Then anger returned.
“That’s none of your business.”
Grayson wiped water from his cheek.
“But I saw Mom’s name.”
Tabitha froze.
Bernice did too.
Grayson continued before fear stopped him.
“On the blue folder.”
Tabitha grabbed his arm.
“Where did you see that?”
Grayson flinched.
Bernice ended the recording.
Enough.
She stepped backward.
Quiet.
Then sent the clip directly to Thaddeus.
No explanation.
Only:
Please stop before watching this. It’s Grayson.
Across Birmingham, Thaddeus Rowan was driving home from Rowan Industrial Systems.
His phone buzzed.
Bernice.
He glanced at the notification but left the phone untouched.
Whatever it was could wait until he stopped.
Two minutes later, he pulled into a gas station lot and parked.
Then he opened Bernice’s message.
The video began.
Thaddeus watched his son crying on a bathroom floor.
Soaked hair.
Trembling shoulders.
Tabitha standing over him.
Thaddeus stopped breathing.
Then Tabitha’s voice came through the phone.
“Your father doesn’t even know what’s happening inside his own house.”
Thaddeus’s jaw clenched.
“Tabitha.”
He nearly closed the video.
Then her voice continued.
“And he doesn’t even know who really signed those papers.”
Thaddeus froze.
“What papers?”
The video ended.
Thaddeus called Bernice.
She answered instantly.
“Mr. Rowan?”
“What happened?”
“Come home.”
“Is Grayson safe?”
“I have him with me now.”
Thaddeus closed his eyes.
“Did she hurt him anywhere else?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Keep Tabitha away from him.”
“I will.”
He started the engine.
“Bernice.”
“Yes?”
“What papers?”
Silence.
“I don’t know.”
“But Grayson said something after I stopped recording.”
Thaddeus’s grip tightened around the steering wheel.
“What?”
“He said he saw your wife’s name on a blue folder.”
Thaddeus’s chest went cold.
Caroline.
His wife had been dead for three years.
Cancer had taken her at thirty-eight, leaving Thaddeus with an empty bedroom, an eight-year-old son who still sometimes asked whether heaven had telephones, and a house full of objects nobody knew whether to keep or move.
“What blue folder?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“Grayson said your old downstairs study.”
Thaddeus turned onto the road.
His father had used that study before Thaddeus inherited the Birmingham mansion.
After Caroline died, almost everything involving old estate papers had been moved there.
Tabitha sometimes handled them.
Too often, perhaps.
Thaddeus drove faster but stayed inside the limit.
He would not become careless because he was angry.
When he reached home, Bernice opened the front door.
Her face told him everything.
“Where is he?”
“Guest room.”
“And Tabitha?”
“Kitchen.”
Thaddeus moved toward the stairs.
“Thaddeus.”
Tabitha stepped into the foyer.
Expensive black blouse.
Dark pants.
Perfect hair.
She looked irritated rather than frightened.
“You need to control your son.”
Thaddeus stopped.
Bernice went completely still.
“What did you say?”
Tabitha crossed her arms.
“He went through private family papers.”
Thaddeus stared.
“My eight-year-old son?”
“Yes.”
“So you put his face in a toilet?”
Tabitha’s expression changed.
“He was being hysterical.”
“Answer me.”
“It wasn’t what Bernice made it look like.”
“You don’t know what Bernice recorded.”
Silence.
That landed.
Thaddeus stepped closer.
“What papers?”
Tabitha looked away.
“There are thousands of papers in this house.”
“The ones you told my son I don’t know who signed.”
Her face lost a little color.
“I was angry.”
“People don’t invent sentences like that when they’re angry.”
“Thaddeus—”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Stay away from Grayson.”
Tabitha laughed once.
“This is my family too.”
“Not tonight.”
“You don’t get to throw me out because an eight-year-old—”
“Watch me.”
For the first time, Tabitha looked uncertain.
Thaddeus walked upstairs.
Grayson sat on the edge of the guest bed wrapped in a towel and one of Bernice’s oversized cardigans.
His wet hair clung to his forehead.
The moment he saw Thaddeus, his face collapsed.
“Dad.”
Thaddeus crossed the room.
Grayson ran into him.
“I’ve got you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I touched Mom’s stuff.”
Thaddeus held him tighter.
“You never have to apologize for that.”
Grayson whispered:
“Aunt Tabitha said you’d be mad.”
“I’m not.”
“She said Mom signed papers because she knew I wasn’t supposed to get everything.”
Thaddeus slowly pulled back.
“What?”
Grayson looked scared.
“She said Mom knew.”
“Knew what?”
Grayson shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then:
“But Dad…”
“Yes?”
“There were two signatures.”
Thaddeus’s pulse changed.
“Whose?”
Grayson swallowed.
“Mom’s.”
“And yours.”
Thaddeus stared.
He had no memory of signing anything with Caroline during her final months.
Nothing involving Grayson.
Nothing involving Tabitha.
May you like
And suddenly Tabitha’s sentence from Bernice’s video sounded very different.
He doesn’t even know who really signed those papers.
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