The first thing my stepmother gave me after three years in prison was the news that my father was dead.
The second thing she gave me was a warning never to come back.
Vanessa opened the front door wearing my father’s navy silk bathrobe. A glass of champagne balanced between two long red fingernails.
For one terrible second, I forgot how to breathe.
Behind her, the house looked almost exactly the same as the day I left. The walnut staircase my grandfather built. The brass grandfather clock in the front hall. The framed photograph on the hall table of my father and me holding up a largemouth bass at Lake Mercer when I was twelve.
Except my picture had been turned face down.
Vanessa smiled at me.
“Well,” she said. “Prison didn’t improve you.”
I tightened my grip on the canvas duffel bag in my hand. It held everything I owned in the world. Two pairs of jeans. Three T-shirts. A toothbrush. And a stack of unanswered letters I’d written to my father.
“Where’s Dad?” I said.
Her smile got wider.
“He died a year ago, Daniel. Heart attack. This house is mine now.”
Those words hit me harder than any fist I’d taken inside.
“You never told me,” I said. “Nobody told me.”
“Why would I?” Vanessa sipped her champagne. “You were convicted of stealing from his company. You broke that man’s heart. I wasn’t going to let you disgrace his funeral.”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
“Twelve jurors disagreed.”
A man stepped into the hallway behind her.
My stepbrother, Damien. Thirty-four years old. Gelled hair. A smirk he’d been wearing since he was fifteen.
And on his left wrist, my father’s gold Omega watch. The one my mother gave my father on their twentieth anniversary. The one Dad promised me since I was a boy.
Damien looked me up and down. My cheap jacket from the prison release bin. My scuffed shoes.
He laughed.
“You should probably leave,” he said. “Before the neighbors see you standing here.”
I looked past both of them. Down the hall. Toward my father’s study.
“I want his things,” I said. “His books. His photographs. Anything.”
“You don’t have any things here,” Vanessa said. “According to the will, your father left everything to me. The house. The company. All of it.”
She leaned toward me. And she lowered her voice.
“He finally accepted what you really were.”
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
Sophia holds a degree in Journalism from the University of Toronto, where she developed her skills in news reporting, media ethics, and digital journalism. Her expertise lies in identifying key stories, crafting compelling narratives, and ensuring journalistic integrity in every piece she edits.
Known for her precision and dedication to the truth, Sophia thrives in the fast-paced world of news editing. At TheArchivists, she focuses on producing high-quality news content that keeps readers informed while maintaining a balanced and insightful perspective.
With a commitment to delivering impactful journalism, Sophia is passionate about bringing clarity to complex issues and amplifying voices that matter. Her work reflects her belief in the power of news to shape conversations and inspire change.