Chapter 6: The Conversation Patricia Never Wanted
I arrived twenty minutes early.
That was something I had learned about Patricia Vance.
She never arrived late.
Not because she respected people's time.
Because she believed being the first person in a room gave her control over it.
The meeting location was a quiet restaurant on the edge of town.
Not the kind of place Patricia usually chose.
She preferred expensive rooms with crystal glasses and people who knew her last name.
This place had wooden tables, soft lighting, and no one who cared about the Vance family.
That was probably why Rebecca chose it.
I sat near the back, facing the entrance.
Old habits.
After everything I had discovered, I no longer sat with my back to doors.
Ten minutes later, Patricia walked in.
Perfectly dressed.
Perfect hair.
A calm expression.
If someone saw her from across the room, they would think she was a graceful woman having a peaceful lunch.
They would never guess she had taken food away from two little girls and called it tradition.
She spotted me.
Her smile appeared immediately.
Not a real smile.
A practiced one.
“Lauren.””
I didn't stand.
“Patricia.””
She sat across from me.
“You surprised me.””
“I imagine I did.””
She placed her purse beside her.
“I heard Andrew came home upset.””
I looked at her.
“That’s what concerns you?””
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Of course it does. He’s my son.””
“And my daughters are yours too.””
Her expression hardened for half a second.
Then the mask returned.
“You’re still upset about dinner.””
I stared at her.
“No.””
“No?””
“I’m upset about what that dinner revealed.””
Patricia leaned back.
“You always had a tendency to make things more emotional than necessary.””
There it was.
The same phrase.
The same excuse.
The same way people avoided responsibility.
I folded my hands on the table.
“Why did you do it?””
“Do what?””
“Take my daughters’ plates.””
She sighed.
“Lauren.””
“No.””
My voice was calm.
“I want you to answer the question.””
A server came by.
Patricia ordered tea.
I didn't order anything.
I wanted a clear head.
When the server left, Patricia looked at me.
“You’re making a mistake.””
“I asked you why.””
She looked around.
Then lowered her voice.
“Because I was trying to make you understand something.””
“What?””
“That family names matter.””
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“You humiliated two children to teach me a lesson?””
“They are not just children.””
The way she said it made me uncomfortable.
“They are part of a family.””
“Yes.””
“A family that has responsibilities.””
I stared at her.
“My daughters are not responsibilities.””
Patricia didn't blink.
“They are your responsibility.””
“No.””
I leaned forward.
“They are your grandchildren.””
For the first time, she looked annoyed.
“You don't understand the position I’m in.””
I almost laughed.
“What position?””
“The position of protecting what my husband and his father built.””
There it was.
The Vance name.
Always the Vance name.
“What does that have to do with Sophia and Chloe?””
Patricia looked at me.
“You gave Andrew daughters.””
I waited.
She continued.
“And that changed everything.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“No.””
She frowned.
“No?””
“You changed everything.””
Patricia was silent.
“You decided my daughters were less valuable before they were even born.””
“That’s not true.””
“Then why did you tell them they weren't important?””
“I never said that.””
I remembered Chloe's face.
The empty plate.
The sauce on her dress.
The way Sophia looked at her father.
“Yes, you did.””
Patricia looked away.
Then she said something I never expected.
“You should have known Andrew needed a different future.””
My entire body went still.
“What does that mean?””
She picked up her tea.
“Andrew has always carried the family name. He has always been under pressure.””
“Pressure to what?””
She didn't answer.
“Patricia.””
She looked at me.
“To continue what his father started.””
I stared at her.
“By replacing his wife?””
Her expression changed.
Not guilt.
Recognition.
Like she realized I knew more than she thought.
“Who told you?””
Again.
The same question.
I smiled.
“So it’s true.””
She said nothing.
I reached into my bag.
I placed a copy of the property document on the table.
The one with Vanessa's name.
Patricia looked at it.
Only briefly.
But it was enough.
She knew exactly what it was.
“You went through Andrew’s things.””
“No.””
I watched her face.
“I learned the truth.””
She looked angry now.
“You don't understand what you're doing.””
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
“Because it's true.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“Because you’re all used to me being quiet.””
That stopped her.
For years, Patricia had known exactly who I was.
The woman who avoided conflict.
The woman who apologized first.
The woman who tried to keep peace.
She thought that woman was still sitting across from her.
She was wrong.
“Did Andrew ask you to help him leave me?””
Patricia looked down.
A small movement.
Almost nothing.
But enough.
“You knew.””
“I knew he was unhappy.””
“That's not an answer.””
She sighed.
“Andrew deserves happiness.””
I looked at her.
“And my daughters deserve what?””
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don't turn this into something it isn't.””
“What is it then?””
“A difficult decision.””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“A difficult decision?””
“Yes.””
“You mean choosing another woman over your son’s children.””
“That woman can give him things you cannot.””
The words were so cruel that they almost didn't feel real.
“What things?””
Patricia looked directly at me.
“A son.””
Silence.
The entire restaurant seemed to disappear.
I stared at the woman in front of me.
Not because she hurt me.
Because she confirmed everything.
The dinner.
The insults.
The way she treated my daughters.
It wasn't random.
It wasn't ignorance.
It was a plan.
“You wanted him to leave us.””
Patricia didn't deny it.
“I wanted him to stop wasting his life.””
I felt my hands tighten.
“His life?””
“Yes.””
She looked at me.
“You think love is enough.””
“And you think a son is.””
“For families like ours, yes.””
I shook my head.
“No wonder Andrew became who he is.””
Her eyes flashed.
“Be careful.””
“There it is.””
“What?””
“The warning.””
I stood.
Patricia looked up at me.
“You think you’re stronger because you found some documents?””
“No.””
I picked up my bag.
“I think I’m stronger because I finally stopped believing your version of reality.””
She watched me.
Then she said something quietly.
Something that made me stop.
“Lauren.””
I turned.
“You really think Andrew was the only person who signed those papers?””
My heart skipped.
“What?””
She smiled.
Not kindly.
“You should check the documents again.””
A chill moved through me.
“What are you talking about?””
Patricia stood slowly.
“You always trusted Andrew.””
She picked up her purse.
“But maybe you should ask yourself why.””
I stared at her.
“Did you sign something?””
She smiled.
“I said you should check.””
Then she walked away.
I stood there frozen.
Because Patricia had just revealed something.
Something she hadn't intended to.
She wasn't afraid of the documents.
She was afraid of what else was inside them.
That evening, after putting the girls to bed, I opened the folder again.
I checked every page.
Every signature.
Every line.
At first, I found nothing.
Then, near the final page, hidden beneath a scanned attachment, I saw it.
A signature.
Not Andrew’s.
Not mine.
Patricia Vance.
My hands went cold.
I read the title above it.
*Family Asset Protection Agreement.*
The date was two months before Andrew asked me for help.
Before he cried in my kitchen.
Before he said he needed me.
I turned the page.
And the next paragraph made my heart stop.
Because it explained why Patricia had been so desperate to remove my daughters from the Vance family.
It wasn't because she hated girls.
It was because she knew something I didn't.
Something about inheritance.
Something about ownership.
Something about the future Andrew had been secretly planning.
At the bottom of the page was one sentence highlighted in yellow.
*In the event of separation, all protected assets will transfer according to the original bloodline succession agreement.*
I read it three times.
Then I whispered:
“Original bloodline succession…”
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
It was Rebecca.
I answered immediately.
“Rebecca?””
Her voice was urgent.
“Lauren, listen to me.””
“What happened?””
“You found the agreement, didn't you?””
I froze.
“How did you know?””
“Because Patricia just called me.””
My stomach tightened.
“What did she say?””
Rebecca went silent.
Then:
“She told me to destroy the remaining copies.””
I stood.
“Remaining copies?””
“Yes.””
“How many are there?””
Rebecca's voice dropped.
“Only one.””
A pause.
“And Lauren?””
“Yes?””
“You need to find it before Andrew does.””
The call ended.
I looked around the room.
The house was dark.
My daughters were asleep upstairs.
And somewhere out there, Andrew Vance was searching for the one piece of evidence that could change everything.
May you like
The only problem was…
I didn't know where it was hidden.
