Chapter 3 - The Ghost of 1998
The atmosphere in Valentina’s small bedroom felt completely altered. The wrapping paper and ribbons scattered across the floor suddenly looked trivial, like colorful trash surrounding a crime scene.
On the phone screen, my mother-in-law looked like she had just seen a ghost. Her hands were trembling visibly, and she had grabbed the edge of the coffee table for support.
“Daniel, I am warning you,” Renata hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of panic and fury. “If you say one word about family business in front of your wife and child—if you dare—”
“In front of my wife and child?” Daniel cut her off sharply. “Mother, my child is sitting right here on this floor because you threatened to strip away your love unless she handed over what belongs to her. You use family as a weapon. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Just like you did with Uncle Richard’s inheritance.”
Arthur stood up from the couch, his face flushed red. “That was none of your business! That was settled decades ago!”
“Was it settled?” Daniel let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Or did you just forge Grandma Clara’s signature on the second page of the trust deed while Uncle Richard was lying in a hospital bed?”
I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. Forgery? Trust deeds? This was light-years beyond typical family drama about a stolen laptop. This was criminal.
“You have no proof of that!” Renata shrieked, finally losing her composure entirely. She stood up, knocking her teacup over, sending brown liquid spreading across the expensive rug. “You are lying! You’ve always been an ungrateful, manipulative liar, influenced by—!” She glared through the screen directly at me. “—by people who don’t belong in this family!”
“Don’t you dare bring my wife into this,” Daniel’s voice boomed, so loud that Valentina flinched and grabbed her father’s arm.
Daniel instantly softened his tone, patting our daughter’s head reassuringly before looking back at the screen with eyes like ice.
“You think I don't have proof?” Daniel asked quietly. “Mom, do you really think I’m bringing this up out of nowhere? Why do you think I haven't asked you for a single dime since I was twenty-two? Why do you think we moved across the state five years ago? I didn’t just want distance. I was waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” Arthur demanded, though his voice lacked its previous thunder. He looked old, suddenly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever secret Daniel was uncovering.
“Waiting until I had the exact paperwork you hid in the false bottom of the cedar chest in the attic,” Daniel replied smoothly.
Renata staggered backward, bumping into the living room wall. “The... the cedar chest? That... that was burned! We burned those old papers years ago!”
“You burned the drafts,” Daniel corrected her. “Not the final notarized copy that Uncle Richard secretly mailed to his lawyer in the city—the lawyer who happened to be my college mentor before he passed away last year, and who left his entire archive to me in his will.”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and thick with decades of deception.
On the screen, neither Renata nor Arthur could find a single word to say. Their faces told the entire story. Every arrogant demand, every condescending remark, every unfair favoritism shown toward Mateo and his parents over the years suddenly clicked into place. They weren't just toxic grandparents; they were people built on a foundation of stolen wealth and hidden crimes.
“So,” Daniel continued, leaning forward until his face filled the screen. “Let’s talk about sharing, Mother. Let’s talk about how much Mateo ‘needs’ things, and how much my daughter ‘deserves’ what she has earned. You want to teach Valentina a lesson about generosity? How about we teach the rest of the family a lesson about honesty?”
“Daniel... wait,” Arthur whispered, his voice cracking. “Let’s not... let’s not do something we’ll all regret. We can talk about this. Come over tomorrow. Just the two of us. We’ll hash it out over breakfast. We can... we can buy Valentina a better computer. Two computers! Whatever she wants!”
“It’s not about the computer anymore, Dad,” Daniel said softly.
He reached down, picked up the silver MacBook from its open gift box, and handed it back to Valentina.
“Put your computer away, sweetie,” Daniel told her gently. “Go brush your teeth and get some real sleep. Everything is going to be fine.”
Valentina looked up at her father, still confused by the heavy words exchanged around her, but she trusted him. She nodded, carefully lifted her MacBook, and placed it safely on her desk.
Then Daniel looked back at the screen, where his parents stood frozen in the middle of their brightly lit living room, looking smaller and much more vulnerable than they ever had in their lives.
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“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Mom, Dad,” Daniel said calmly. “And don't bother packing any excuses. Bring the original trust documents, or I’ll bring the police.”
With a single tap, Daniel hung up the phone.
