Chapter 5: The Papers He Never Wanted Me To See
I spent the entire night reading the documents.
Not once.
Not twice.
Over and over until the words stopped looking like words.
My eyes moved across the pages, but my mind kept returning to the same sentence.
*Brandon knew about the apartment before he proposed.*
I wanted to reject it.
I wanted to believe Rachel was wrong.
People misunderstood things all the time.
People exaggerated.
People lied.
But the worst part was that a small voice inside me wasn’t surprised.
Because deep down, I had always felt something was off.
I just never wanted to admit it.
I remembered our first date.
Brandon had asked me about my family.
I told him about my parents.
I told him about the accident.
I told him how they had worked their whole lives to leave me something secure.
He had held my hand across the table.
“You’re lucky,” he had said softly.
At the time, I thought he meant I was lucky to have memories of them.
Now I wondered if he meant something else.
At six in the morning, I called my lawyer.
Her name was Sarah.
She had helped my parents with their estate years ago, and when I explained my situation, she agreed to see me immediately.
When I arrived at her office, she looked through the documents without speaking.
That silence scared me more than any reaction.
Finally, she placed the papers down.
“Emma, where did you get these?””
“Someone left them at my door.””
She looked concerned.
“Do you know what these are?””
“Not exactly.””
Sarah tapped the top page.
“This is a financial agreement.””
“Between who?””
She hesitated.
“Between your husband and another party.””
“My husband and who?””
She looked at me carefully.
“His mother.””
My stomach dropped.
“Brenda?””
Sarah nodded.
I leaned back.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
“Why would they have an agreement involving my apartment?””
Sarah folded her hands.
“That’s what we need to find out.””
“Can they take it?””
“No.””
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
I looked at her.
“You’re sure?””
“Your parents placed the property under your name alone. It was inherited by you before your marriage.””
“So why would they create this?””
“To pressure you.””
“Pressure me into what?””
Sarah looked back at the documents.
“That depends on what else exists.””
“What else?””
She picked up another page.
“This agreement references a future transfer.””
My heart tightened.
“A transfer of what?””
She looked at me.
“Ownership.””
The room became silent.
“They were planning to transfer ownership?””
“Possibly.””
“How?””
Sarah looked at me.
“That’s the part we need to investigate.””
I stared at the papers.
Seven years.
Seven years of marriage.
And apparently, there had been a plan happening right underneath me.
When I left Sarah’s office, I sat in my car for twenty minutes without turning the engine on.
I watched people walk past.
A man carrying groceries.
A woman pushing a stroller.
A couple laughing outside a café.
Everyone looked normal.
Everyone looked like they were living ordinary lives.
And I wondered how many people were secretly fighting battles nobody knew about.
My phone rang.
Brandon.
I stared at the screen.
Before, seeing his name made me feel safe.
Now it made me feel sick.
I answered.
“Hello?””
“Emma.””
His voice was careful.
Too careful.
“Where are you?””
“Why?””
“I just want to talk.””
“You had plenty of chances.””
Silence.
Then:
“I know.””
I looked out the window.
“What do you want?””
“I want to explain.””
“You should have explained before I found out from strangers.””
His breathing changed.
“You talked to someone?””
I almost smiled.
There it was again.
Not concern.
Not regret.
Fear of being exposed.
“Yes.””
“Who?””
“That doesn’t matter.””
“It matters.””
“No, Brandon. What matters is why you lied.””
Another silence.
Then he said:
“Can we meet?””
I thought about saying no.
I should have said no.
But I needed answers.
“Where?””
“Somewhere private.””
“No.””
“Emma.””
“You don’t get to choose private places anymore.””
He was quiet.
“Fine. The café near your apartment.””
“An hour.””
“Okay.””
Before hanging up, he said:
“Emma?””
“Yes?””
“I never wanted to hurt you.””
I closed my eyes.
Because somehow, that sentence hurt the most.
People always said they never wanted to hurt you.
But wanting something and choosing something were two different things.
Brandon arrived five minutes early.
That was unusual.
He was usually late.
Usually distracted.
Usually making me wait.
He sat across from me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said:
“I know about the documents.””
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup.
“You do?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“My mother called me.””
Of course.
Brenda.
Always one step ahead.
“What did she say?””
“That you found papers you weren’t supposed to see.””
I stared at him.
“Was she right?””
His face changed.
“Emma…”
“Was she right?””
He looked down.
That was enough.
I felt my chest tighten.
“Why?””
He swallowed.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.””
I almost laughed.
“That’s your explanation?””
“No.””
“Then explain.””
He rubbed his hands together.
“I had problems before we met.””
“Financial problems.””
“Yes.””
“And you thought marrying me would solve them.””
His eyes lifted.
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
“Emma, I loved you.””
“Did you?””
Pain flashed across his face.
“Yes.””
“Then why did your mother know about my apartment before I even met her?””
He froze.
I watched him carefully.
Because that reaction told me more than words ever could.
“You knew,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“You knew she knew.””
“Emma…”
“You knew.””
His shoulders dropped.
“I didn’t think it mattered.””
The words felt like a slap.
“You didn’t think it mattered?””
“No, that’s not what I mean.””
“You knew my parents left me this apartment. You knew it was important to me.””
“Yes.””
“And you still let your mother talk about it like it was something she could own.””
“I told her not to.””
“When?””
He looked away.
I knew.
Never.
“You never stopped her.””
His silence was the truth.
I leaned closer.
“What is the agreement?””
Brandon looked nervous.
“I can’t explain everything.””
“Why?””
“Because it’s complicated.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
My voice became quiet.
“It’s complicated when someone gets caught. Before that, it’s just a decision.””
He looked at me.
“I made mistakes.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You made choices.””
He looked hurt.
But I didn’t let myself soften.
Not this time.
“What was the plan?””
“There was no plan.””
“Then why does the agreement mention ownership?””
He went still.
That was all I needed.
“Brandon.””
He looked away.
Finally, he whispered:
“My mother thought after we had children, things would change.””
My blood ran cold.
“We don’t have children.””
“I know.””
“Then why?””
He didn’t answer.
“Brandon.””
His voice became barely audible.
“She thought you would eventually put the apartment in both our names.””
I stared at him.
“So that was it?””
“No.””
“Yes.””
I felt tears building, but I refused to let them fall.
“You weren’t building a life with me.””
His eyes filled with regret.
“Emma.””
“You were waiting for access.””
“No.””
“Then tell me I’m wrong.””
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
And that was when I knew.
I stood up.
Brandon looked alarmed.
“Where are you going?””
“Home.””
“Emma, please.””
I grabbed my bag.
“No.””
“I love you.””
I looked at him.
That sentence used to fix everything.
Now it meant nothing.
“You love the version of me that trusted you.””
His face fell.
“That’s not fair.””
“Fair?””
I stared at him.
“Brandon, I spent seven years defending you.””
I pointed toward the door.
“Who defended me?””
He had no answer.
When I arrived back at the apartment, the front door was slightly open.
My heart stopped.
I knew I had locked it.
Slowly, I pushed it wider.
The living room was empty.
But something was different.
The drawers near the desk were open.
Papers were scattered across the floor.
Someone had been searching.
I stepped inside.
“Hello?””
No answer.
Then I saw it.
On the table.
A single envelope.
With my name written on it.
But this time, the handwriting wasn’t Brenda’s.
It wasn’t Brandon’s.
It was my father’s.
My hands started shaking.
That was impossible.
My father had been gone for years.
I slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
And a note.
May you like
Five words.
*Ask Brenda about the night I died.*
