Chapter 4: The Heirloom and the Pool

The next day, I took the prepared list and went to the guest house. The morning sun streamed through the windows, but everything inside felt shadowed and tense.

I first found my son Carter.

Carter was nearly six, already a big kid. He sat at his desk surrounded by toy trucks and coloring books, but his eyes were wary.

When he learned I was there to reclaim what I’d given him, his face went blank, then red, but he still handed over the cash and property deeds. The envelope shook in his hand.

"Mom didn’t even have breakfast with us today, but cares about all this stuff? Miss Lane says money is just material things. Mom, you just don’t get it!"

I looked quietly at Carter, disappointment and pain twisting in my chest. He was parroting words that weren’t his, making me feel like a stranger in my own home. I paused outside his door, remembering his first steps, that crayon drawing he’d given me—moments when he was still mine. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and went in.

He was the first son I had after marrying Mark.

At the time, Mark was busy with work, his mom had died early, and my first childbirth nearly killed me. I never thought the son I risked my life for would look down on me like this... I remembered holding him as a baby, whispering promises into the soft whorl of his ear.

I swallowed my disappointment, put away the deeds, and left the rest to him. I forced myself to sound gentle, even as my hands shook.

I reminded him gently,

"You’re still young. Even this is more than most. Take care of it."

I reached out to touch his head. My hand hovered, but Carter dodged, pushing me away impatiently. The rejection stung worse than any insult.

"Who cares? I don’t want your stuff!"

I glanced at him and turned to leave. My steps echoed in the hallway, heavy as lead.

Then I went to Brooke’s room.

She was not so easy to reason with. Her room was a riot of pink and glitter, dolls lined up along the window seat.

"Why? What you gave me is mine! Don’t even think about taking it back! Miss Lane said, this is my foundation!"

Brooke looked at me with disgust, as if I were her enemy. The glare in her big blue eyes hurt more than any slap.

"Mom, you want to steal my things! I hate you!"

Brooke was my second child, always the one to give me the most trouble.

When I was pregnant with her, I went to church to pray, got caught in a protest, and was so scared I went into labor right there—so I named her Brooke, hoping her life would flow smoothly. I remembered the hospital lights, the panic, the nurses’ hurried voices. That ordeal also hurt my health, so I could never have more children. The sadness never left me, not really.

I knew I couldn’t reason with Brooke, so I told her main nanny to bring out her property. The nanny, Mrs. Evans, gave me a sympathetic look and hurried to do as asked.

Brooke swung her tiny fists, screaming. I caught her wrist, heart pounding, terrified she’d hurt herself. Her sobs echoed in the hallway, wild and uncontained.

Hannah checked the list carefully.

"Ma’am, all is accounted for. Only the ruby bracelet that your mother left you—you gave it to Brooke, but it can’t be found."

I remembered that bracelet—not only priceless, but also my mother’s keepsake. The sight of it on my wedding day flashed in my mind—a blessing, she’d said, to keep me strong.

"Who did you give it to? That was your grandmother’s!"

Brooke took two steps back, stammering and yelling, "None of your business! You gave it to me, it’s mine, I can give it to whoever I want!"

I asked her caretakers and learned she had given it to Dana Lane. The knowledge hit me like a punch.

I was furious and turned to leave, ignoring Brooke’s cries behind me. My footsteps were fast and sharp, anger pushing me forward.

"Miss Lane, kids don’t know better, but adults should. That was my late mother’s keepsake—please return it!"

Dana Lane stood on the backyard deck feeding the koi, gently rolling up her sleeve to reveal the bracelet on her wrist. The sunlight glinted off the ruby, mocking me with its familiarity.

"Brooke gave this to me. Why are you here to take it back?"

"Miss Lane, every heirloom has its story. You know that bracelet means a lot to my family. Wearing it around like it’s just jewelry—it’s not right."

Dana Lane’s face paled for a moment. Her hand trembled as she touched the bracelet.

I’d already quietly found out: she was once an official’s daughter, but her family lost everything, and Mark rescued her. The story was well-known in town. How could she dare wear gold and jewels in public, showing off?

I reached out. "Miss Lane, please return it."

Dana Lane extended her hand, her eyes flickering, and suddenly grabbed my wrist!

I was caught off guard, and as I leaned toward her, we both tumbled into the backyard pool. Cold water slammed into me, soaking through every layer, the shock stealing my breath. Chlorine burned my eyes and nose. Shouts erupted from inside the house, the sound muffled and frantic.

"Dad, look! Mom pushed Miss Lane into the water!"

I was submerged, the taste of chlorine sharp in my mouth, panic rising as I kicked for the surface. My vision blurred, and my arms grew heavy.

"Dana!"

Mark jumped in, pulling Dana Lane into his arms and dragging her to the edge. He didn’t even look at me.

I thrashed in the water, desperate, realizing no one was coming for me. My strength faded, and I sank into cold, muffled silence.