Chapter 8 - The Locked Drawer
Lucas didn't argue with Vanessa that night, but a persistent, uneasy feeling settled deep in his gut. After Vanessa went to sleep, Lucas walked down the quiet hallway to Lily's room. He found his daughter curled into a tight ball, holding her stuffed rabbit, her cheeks stained with dried tears.
He sat on the edge of her bed, brushing the dark curls from her forehead. "Lily?" he whispered.
She opened her eyes, looking at him with a profound, heartbreaking sadness that mirrored Grace's final days. "Vanessa threw my blanket in the outside trash," Lily whispered, her voice trembling. "She said it was garbage."
Lucas froze. The air in the room suddenly felt incredibly thin. "She told me you spilled juice on it, and she was washing it."
Lily shook her head, clutching the rabbit tighter. "I didn't. She just took it. She said it didn't match the house."
Lucas felt a surge of adrenaline, a protective, primal instinct flaring to life. He walked out of the room, through the pouring rain in the backyard, and opened the large municipal trash bin. There, buried under discarded delivery boxes and coffee grounds, was the yellow blanket.
He pulled it out, his hands shaking as the cold rain soaked his shirt. He carried it back inside, threw it into the washing machine himself, and stood in the dark laundry room, staring at the spinning water.
“Promise me Lily will never feel like a guest in her own home.”
Grace's dying words echoed through his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He walked into his home office and unlocked the bottom drawer of his mahogany desk. Inside, resting beneath a stack of old financial records, was a sealed, cream-colored envelope.
May you like
For the day you forget.
He picked up the letter. He had been so terrified of the pain it contained that he hadn't touched it in two years. He had allowed his loneliness to blind him, letting Vanessa construct a perfect, suffocating illusion. He didn't open the letter yet, but he placed it directly on his desk. The illusion was breaking.
