PART 4 — THE SECRET BEHIND THE DIVORCE
“Margaret?”
Richard’s voice came through the phone so softly that for one terrible second, I thought I had imagined it.
My knees weakened.
Five years.
Five years since I had heard that voice speaking my name.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Margaret?” he said again.
This time his voice broke.
I sat down on one of the boxes.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then I heard Richard inhale sharply.
“Oh, God.”
My anger came rushing back.
“Don’t.”
“Margaret, I—”
“Don’t say my name like you’ve been waiting for me. You left me.”
Emily began speaking in the background.
“Mom, please—”
“No, Emily. You don’t get to tell me what to do right now.”
She went silent.
I gripped the phone.
“I spent five years believing your father threw me away. I scrubbed floors. I went hungry. I fainted outside my apartment. And both of you knew where he was.”
Richard spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
I laughed bitterly.
“You divorced me because you were sick?”
There was a long pause.
“Partly.”
My eyes moved toward the blank television screen.
“I found the recording.”
Emily gasped.
“Mom—”
“I watched it.”
Silence.
Then Richard’s voice changed.
“Did you watch all of it?”
“It stopped.”
“What did you hear?”
“You said your illness wasn’t the only reason. You said you were protecting me from someone in our family.”
Richard did not answer.
“Who, Richard?”
Still nothing.
“WHO?”
Emily suddenly interrupted.
“Dad, don’t.”
My blood went cold.
“Emily, why are you telling him not to answer?”
“Because you don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t do this over the phone.”
I stood.
“For five years, everyone has apparently decided what I’m allowed to know. That ends today.”
Richard coughed violently in the background.
Emily moved away from the phone.
“Dad, sit down.”
I heard movement.
A chair.
Then a machine beeping.
For a moment, my anger weakened.
“Is he all right?”
Emily returned.
“He’s okay.”
I closed my eyes.
Even after everything, I still cared.
That was perhaps the cruelest part.
“Mom,” Emily said, “come here. Please. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Tell me one thing first.”
“What?”
“Who was your father trying to protect me from?”
Emily went silent.
Then she whispered:
“Michael.”
My heart stopped.
My son.
My youngest child.
“No.”
“Mom—”
“No.”
Michael was forty-one.
He lived less than twenty minutes from me.
He repaired my leaking sink.
He drove me to appointments when Emily was busy.
He gave me grocery money twice when he thought I wasn’t looking.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I wish it were.”
“What did he do?”
Emily began crying.
“Please come here.”
I looked around the storage unit.
“No. Tell me now.”
Richard spoke again.
“Margaret.”
His voice was weaker.
“Listen to Emily.”
Something in his tone frightened me.
Not sadness.
Fear.
I stared at the black screen.
“What did Michael do?”
Emily finally answered.
“Five years ago, Dad discovered Michael had been stealing money.”
I frowned.
“From whom?”
“From both of you.”
I almost laughed.
“We didn’t have enough money for him to steal what you’re suggesting.”
“You did.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
Emily took a breath.
“Dad had investments you didn’t know about.”
I thought about the $184,000 in the bank.
“How much?”
“More than that account.”
“How much, Emily?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Stop protecting me!”
“Almost nine hundred thousand dollars.”
The storage unit seemed to shrink around me.
I grabbed the edge of the table.
“That’s impossible.”
“It wasn’t cash sitting in a checking account. It was retirement investments, property interests, savings. Dad managed most of it.”
I felt dizzy.
Richard had always handled our finances.
I had raised the children.
Managed the house.
Worked part-time when we needed extra money.
I knew we were comfortable once.
But nine hundred thousand dollars?
“Michael found out,” Emily continued. “He had gambling debts and business loans.”
“No.”
“Dad discovered signatures on documents that weren’t his.”
My chest tightened.
“Forgeries?”
“Yes.”
“How much did Michael take?”
“We don’t know exactly.”
Richard answered this time.
“Two hundred and seventeen thousand.”
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
I covered my mouth.
My own son.
The little boy who used to climb into my bed during thunderstorms.
The teenager I defended every time Richard said he was irresponsible.
The man who still kissed my forehead whenever he left my apartment.
“No.”
I kept saying it as though repetition could change the truth.
“No. No. No.”
Emily continued.
“When Dad confronted him, Michael panicked.”
“What happened?”
“He threatened Dad.”
My entire body stiffened.
“With what?”
“He said if Dad went to the police, he would tell you that Dad had hidden money from you for decades.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Well, apparently that part was true.”
Richard answered.
“Yes.”
At least he did not deny it.
“But there was more,” Emily said.
“Michael had opened accounts using your information.”
I stopped breathing.
“My information?”
“Your Social Security number. Your old signatures. Copies of your identification.”
I felt physically sick.
“Why?”
“To access credit.”
I sat again.
Suddenly pieces of the past returned.
Letters Richard had taken from the mailbox before I could see them.
Arguments between Richard and Michael behind closed doors.
The year Michael suddenly announced his business debt had disappeared.
I had thought Richard helped him.
Maybe Richard had been cleaning up the damage.
“Why divorce me?”
Richard answered.
“Because as long as we were legally married, Michael could reach things connected to both of us.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It wasn’t the only reason.”
“Then tell me the rest.”
Richard coughed.
Emily tried to stop him.
He continued anyway.
“I had already been diagnosed. I didn’t know how quickly my mind would deteriorate.”
My anger softened despite myself.
“I was terrified,” he said. “If I forgot what Michael had done, if I became unable to protect you, he could convince me to sign anything.”
“So you divorced me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
His answer was so quiet I nearly missed it.
“Because you would have protected him.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“You always protected the children.”
“That’s what mothers do.”
“Even when they were wrong.”
Something inside me cracked.
Richard continued.
“I knew you, Margaret. If I told you Michael was facing prison, you would have begged me not to report him.”
I wanted to deny it.
But I could not.
Five years ago?
If Richard had shown me evidence that my son had stolen from us…
I probably would have said he needed help.
I would have said prison would destroy him.
I would have tried to fix it.
Richard knew me too well.
“So what did you do?”
“I made a deal with him.”
Emily whispered, “Dad…”
“No,” Richard said. “She deserves the truth.”
I waited.
Richard continued.
“I told Michael I wouldn’t report the forged documents if he signed away every claim he could possibly make against our assets and repaid what he could.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Did he?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Not enough.”
“And the divorce?”
“I transferred everything I legally could so that if my condition worsened, he couldn’t manipulate me into changing things.”
I looked toward the wooden boxes.
“And the money you kept putting into my account?”
“That was yours.”
“Why hide it?”
“Because Michael monitored you.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
Emily spoke quickly.
“He didn’t follow you every day or anything like that.”
“That is not making this better.”
“He kept asking us whether you had used the card. Whether Dad had contacted you.”
I stood.
“When?”
“For years.”
A terrible memory surfaced.
Michael sitting at my kitchen table three months after the divorce.
Mom, did Dad leave you anything?
I had thought he was worried.
I told him about the card.
Three thousand dollars.
I remembered his expression.
A strange relief.
Then another memory.
Last year.
Michael asking casually:
You still have that old bank card Dad gave you?
I had laughed and told him I would rather starve than touch it.
He had smiled.
At the time, I thought he admired my stubbornness.
Now I understood.
He had been checking.
“Why is Michael still in my life?”
My voice shook.
“If all of you knew, why did you let him come into my home?”
Emily cried harder.
“Because Dad made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“That we wouldn’t destroy the family unless Michael tried something again.”
I could barely believe what I was hearing.
“You protected him.”
“No. Dad thought Michael had changed.”
“And you?”
“I wanted to believe it.”
I looked at the boxes around me.
“Does Michael know about this storage unit?”
“No,” Emily answered immediately.
Richard said nothing.
That silence frightened me.
“Richard?”
No response.
“Does Michael know?”
Finally Richard whispered:
“He might.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“I told him about it once.”
“When?”
“Before I realized how bad things were.”
A noise came from somewhere outside the storage unit.
I froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Coming down the corridor.
“Mom?” Emily said.
I lowered my voice.
“There’s someone here.”
“What?”
“In the hallway.”
Emily’s breathing changed instantly.
“Close the unit.”
I moved toward the metal door.
“Mom, close it now.”
The footsteps stopped.
I stood completely still.
Then someone knocked gently on the half-open metal door.
Three knocks.
“Margaret?”
I recognized the voice.
Daniel.
I exhaled.
“It’s Daniel.”
Emily immediately said:
“Do not open that door.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Mom, listen to me.”
Daniel knocked again.
“Margaret? Are you inside?”
I stared at the door.
“Why shouldn’t I let Daniel in?”
Emily was almost shouting now.
“Because Daniel never called me.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“You said earlier that Daniel called me. He didn’t.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“Then how did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t. Dad did.”
I turned slowly toward the old video camera.
“What?”
“Dad has been confused all afternoon. He kept saying, ‘She found the key. She’s going to the unit.’ I guessed where you were.”
Another knock.
Harder this time.
“Margaret.”
Daniel’s voice.
But something was wrong now.
At his office, Daniel had been calm.
Patient.
This voice sounded urgent.
“Mom,” Emily whispered, “ask him something only Daniel would know.”
I swallowed.
“Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“What was inside the wooden box on your desk?”
Silence.
My heart began pounding.
Then the man outside laughed.
Not loudly.
Just once.
And I knew.
It was not Daniel.
I stepped backward.
The door suddenly started rising.
Someone outside had grabbed it.
I screamed and tried pulling it down, but I was too weak.
The metal door flew upward.
A man stepped inside.
He wore a dark jacket and baseball cap.
For one second, I did not recognize him.
Then he removed the cap.
Michael.
My son smiled at me.
“Mom.”
My phone nearly slipped from my hand.
Emily screamed through the speaker:
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
Michael glanced at the phone.
His smile disappeared.
“So Emily finally told you.”
I backed toward the table.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“What mistake?”
“Believing Dad.”
My eyes moved toward the video camera.
Michael followed my gaze.
Then something like panic crossed his face.
“You watched that?”
“Part of it.”
He stepped forward.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
His jaw tightened.
“Dad lied to you.”
“Stay away from me.”
“Mom, listen.”
“You stole from us.”
Michael stopped.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
“Is that what he told you?”
“Two hundred seventeen thousand dollars.”
Michael stared at me.
Then, incredibly, he began laughing.
A broken, bitter laugh.
I felt sick.
“What’s funny?”
“You still don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
Michael reached slowly into his jacket.
I backed away.
Emily was screaming through the phone.
“Mom, run!”
But Michael did not pull out a weapon.
He pulled out a folded document.
He placed it on a box between us.
“Read it.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Read it.”
I hesitated.
Then I looked down.
It was an old bank statement.
Richard’s name appeared at the top.
Under it was another name.
Not mine.
I stared at it.
The second name belonged to a woman I had never heard of.
Laura Bennett.
My mouth went dry.
“Who is Laura?”
Michael’s eyes filled with tears.
“That’s the question Dad never wanted you to ask.”
I looked at Richard’s name again.
Bennett.
Laura Bennett.
“What are you saying?”
Michael’s voice became quiet.
“The money wasn’t the real secret, Mom.”
I could hear Emily sobbing through the phone.
“Don’t listen to him!”
Michael pointed at the document.
“Ask Dad who Laura is.”
“Michael—”
“Ask him why he was sending her money for twenty-three years.”
My heart hammered.
Twenty-three years.
Richard’s voice suddenly came through the phone.
“Michael, stop.”
Michael leaned closer to the speaker.
“You had five years to tell her.”
“Stop.”
“She deserves to know.”
“MICHAEL!”
It was the strongest I had heard Richard sound.
Michael looked at me.
Then he said the sentence that turned my entire world upside down.
“Laura wasn’t Dad’s mistress, Mom.”
I could barely breathe.
“Then who was she?”
Michael’s eyes locked onto mine.
“She was his wife.”
The storage unit went silent.
I stared at my son.
“That’s impossible.”
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
I looked down at the statement.
Then at my phone.
“Richard?”
Nothing.
“RICHARD?”
I heard him crying.
After thirty-seven years of marriage, I had never once heard that man cry like that.
Finally, he whispered:
“Margaret… there’s one last thing I never told you.”
My entire body went cold.
Michael stepped closer.
“And when you hear it,” he said, “you’ll finally understand why Dad was more afraid of you finding this storage unit than he was of dying.”………..
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
