Chapter 6 - The Unspoken SecretBefore Dean could answer, the front door flew open. Rachel ran out into the pouring rain, her phone pressed to her ear, hysterically screaming.
"He’s crazy! My father is attacking my husband! Send officers immediately!"
She stopped dead when she saw Frank holding the camera, and Dean standing empty-handed, shaking with fear.
"Dean? What’s happening?" Rachel yelled.
"They blocked the transfer, Rachel!" Dean roared, panicking. "The old man froze the account! And he’s got a private dick filming us!"
Rachel looked at me, her eyes filled with a raw, terrifying hatred. "You bastard! You ruined us! We needed that money!"
"You ruined yourselves!" I screamed back, the full magnitude of my rage finally bursting out. "You starved your own child! You left her in a freezing room while you lived like royalty on stolen money! You are a monster, Rachel! I raised you better than this!"
"You didn't raise me!" Rachel shrieked, tears smearing her heavy eye makeup. "You raised your perfect little life! You loved Mom more than you ever loved me! Everything was always about Margaret! Margaret’s standards! Margaret’s legacy! I hated her, and I hate you!"
The malice in her voice felt like a physical blow. But before I could respond, the wail of police sirens echoed down the quiet suburban street. Blue and red lights flashed against the wet pavement as two patrol cars pulled up to the curb, blocking the driveway.
Four officers stepped out, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.
"Hands where we can see them! Everyone stay right where you are!" an officer commanded.
Frank immediately stepped forward, holding his hands up calmly. "Officer, my name is Frank Miller, retired CPD. I am the reporting party. I have video and audio evidence of an active felony assault and financial fraud in progress."
As the officers began interviewing Frank and confronting Dean, I pushed past Rachel and walked straight into the house.
"Arthur! Get out of my house!" Rachel screamed, running after me. "Officer, stop him!"
I ignored her. I took the stairs two at a time, my lungs burning, until I reached the door at the end of the hall.
I opened it.
Lily was standing by the window, clutching her duct-taped backpack to her chest. She was crying softly.
"Grandpa?"
"Pack your things, Lily," I said, my voice gentle and steady. "You’re coming home with me."
"She can't take her!" Rachel yelled, leaning against the doorframe, her face twisted in fury. "I am her legal mother! You can't just take my daughter! That’s kidnapping!"
I turned around slowly to face my daughter. "Try and stop me, Rachel. Call the judge. Call Child Protective Services. Because when CPS sees this room, and when the DA sees my financial records, you will be in a orange jumpsuit by Monday morning."
Rachel stepped back, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out.
Lily grabbed my hand. Her fingers were freezing, but she held on as tightly as she could.
Together, we walked down the stairs, past the police officers who were currently placing handcuffs on Dean in the foyer, and out into the crisp night air.
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But as I placed Lily into the passenger seat of my car, she looked up at me with tears streaming down her face and dropped a bomb that shattered everything I thought I knew.
"Grandpa..." she sobbed. "There’s something else you don't know. In the attic... there’s a metal box hidden under the floorboards. Mom said if anyone ever found it, you would die of a broken heart."
