Chapter 6 - The Man Who Planned Everything
There were forty three photographs.
Some were years old.
One had been taken six months before Damian proposed.
Valeria standing beside Matthew's grave.
She remembered that day.
It had been the anniversary of her first husband's death.
Damian had driven her to the cemetery.
He had waited in the car.
Or so she thought.
Now she held a photograph taken from a distance while she knelt beside the grave crying.
The note beneath it read prolonged grief response.
Valeria felt sick.
Another image showed her arguing with a contractor outside a construction site.
Aggressive confrontation.
Another showed her drinking champagne at her sister's wedding.
Alcohol consumption.
The pattern was obvious.
Nothing was illegal.
Nothing was even unusual.
But arranged together, stripped of context, the images told the story Damian wanted.
An unstable widow.
An overprotective mother.
A volatile woman.
Valeria photographed everything.
Then she opened the folder.
Inside were printed emails.
Some were real.
Some were not.
Valeria recognized her own address, but several messages had words she had never written.
One said she sometimes wondered whether Elliot would be better off with someone else.
Another said she had difficulty controlling her anger.
Valeria's hands shook.
Forgery.
Damian had not merely prepared to defend himself.
He had prepared to destroy her credibility before she ever accused him.
She heard the garage door.
Damian was home.
Valeria replaced everything.
She reached the hallway just as he entered.
He smiled.
"Long day?"
"Very."
He kissed her cheek.
She forced herself not to flinch.
At dinner, Damian was charming.
He asked Elliot about school.
He praised Beatrice for her math grade.
He told a funny story from work.
Anyone watching would have seen a loving father.
Valeria finally understood why Catherine's recordings were so powerful.
Damian did not need rage.
He used normality as camouflage.
After dinner, he poured Valeria wine.
She did not touch it.
"You okay?"
"Just tired."
"You've been tired a lot."
Valeria looked at him.
"Have I?"
"Maybe you should take some time off."
There it was.
A small sentence.
Nothing dangerous.
But she could almost imagine the note beneath a photograph.
Chronic fatigue.
Possible emotional instability.
Valeria smiled.
"Maybe."
Damian studied her.
Then he changed the subject.
That night, Valeria moved the children into the guest wing near her bedroom.
Damian noticed immediately.
"What is this?"
"Elliot had another nightmare."
"And Beatrice?"
"She wanted to stay near us too."
Damian looked at his daughter.
Beatrice stared at the floor.
"Did she?"
Valeria stepped between them slightly.
"Yes."
Damian looked at Valeria.
"You are making a mistake."
"By letting children sleep near me?"
"By rewarding fear."
"Fear isn't misbehavior."
"If you teach them it gets them attention, they'll use it."
Valeria almost laughed.
Instead, she said, "Good night, Damian."
His eyes hardened.
The next morning, Marcus called.
"I reviewed the files."
"And?"
"The recordings are significant."
"Enough?"
"Possibly. But Catherine is deceased, and some of these are several years old. For Beatrice, we need current evidence."
Valeria looked toward the kitchen where Beatrice and Elliot ate breakfast.
"I have testimony."
"Children's testimony matters. But Damian will attack credibility."
"I found forged emails."
"That changes things."
"I sent you copies."
Marcus was silent while checking.
Then he said, "Valeria, these are serious."
"I know."
"No, I mean legally. If he fabricated evidence for use in future proceedings, this could become much larger."
"What do we do?"
"Secure the originals if possible. Quietly."
Valeria agreed.
That afternoon, Damian left for a business dinner.
Valeria returned to his office.
The black case was gone.
She searched the closet.
Nothing.
The flash drives.
Gone.
The photographs.
Gone.
The folder.
Gone.
Damian knew.
Valeria's heart pounded.
She went upstairs.
Elliot was reading.
Beatrice was gone.
"Where's Beatrice?"
Elliot looked up.
"Dad picked her up."
Valeria stopped.
"What?"
"He came home like twenty minutes ago."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"He said you knew."
Valeria grabbed her phone.
No missed calls.
No messages.
She called Damian.
Straight to voicemail.
She called Beatrice.
Phone off.
Then Elliot said something that turned fear into panic.
"Mom, Dad said they were going to the old house."
Valeria looked at him.
"What old house?"
Elliot shrugged.
"He said Beatrice would understand."
Valeria did.
Catherine's house.
The house Damian had sold years ago.
Or claimed he had sold.
Marcus answered on the first ring.
"Damian took Beatrice."
"Where?"
"I think I know."
"Do not go alone."
Valeria was already grabbing her keys.
"Call the police."
She drove faster than she ever had in her life.
Twenty six minutes later, she pulled in front of a narrow brick house at the end of a quiet street.
The property looked abandoned.
Damian's car was parked behind it.
Valeria ran to the front door.
Locked.
She went around back.
Another door stood slightly open.
Inside, the house smelled of dust.
"Beatrice?"
No answer.
"Damian?"
Silence.
Then she heard something upstairs.
A thud.
Valeria ran.
At the top of the stairs, she found Beatrice alone in an empty bedroom.
The girl was sitting on the floor.
The door was locked from the outside.
Valeria kicked it until the old frame split.
She pulled Beatrice into her arms.
"Where is he?"
Beatrice was shaking.
"He left."
"Why?"
"He said he needed to get something."
"What?"
Beatrice looked toward the closet.
"He said Mom hid proof here."
Valeria opened the closet.
Behind a loose wooden panel was a metal box.
Damian had not found it.
May you like
Valeria did.
Inside was Catherine's final letter.
