Chapter 2 - The Pages She Tried to Hide
The first thing I did was call the police.
Not because I wanted my mother arrested.
Not yet.
I called because my six-year-old daughter had just been deliberately thrown into a pool by an adult who knew she couldn't swim.
The second thing I did was take Sofía inside.
Elena wrapped her in a towel and sat with her on the couch.
I stayed beside them.
My mother stood in the entryway.
She looked smaller than I had ever seen her.
For thirty years, Diana had been the strongest person in every room.
She had survived my father's death.
She had raised me alone.
She had built a successful property management company from nothing.
She had always told me that weakness was a choice.
But now her hands were shaking.
The blue notebook lay on our dining table.
I had not opened it again.
When the police arrived, an officer named Marcus Reed listened carefully while Elena explained what had happened.
He spoke gently to Sofía.
“You're not in trouble, sweetheart.”
Sofía nodded.
“Grandma was mad.”
Officer Reed glanced at my mother.
“Why?”
Diana didn't answer.
I did.
“She found something in my mother's purse.”
My mother closed her eyes.
Officer Reed looked at the notebook.
“May I?”
I handed it over.
He turned several pages.
His expression became more serious.
“These are financial records.”
“I know.”
“Do you know what they relate to?”
“No.”
He looked at Diana.
“Mrs. Hayes?”
My mother hesitated.
Then she said, “My business.”
“What business?”
“Diana Holdings.”
I stared at her.
I knew the company.
My mother had always described it as a collection of rental properties.
Small apartment buildings.
Commercial spaces.
A few houses.
Nothing worth millions.
But the notebook told a different story.
Officer Reed asked whether she had thrown Sofía into the pool.
Diana didn't deny it.
“She was holding something that wasn't hers.”
“She is six,” Elena said.
Diana looked at her.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
My mother finally sat down.
“Because someone has been watching me.”
The room went quiet.
“Who?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
Officer Reed asked if she had received threats.
Diana said no.
But her hesitation was obvious.
He noticed it too.
Eventually, he told my mother she would need to remain available for questions and that child protective services would likely follow up because of the incident.
After he left, I returned to the notebook.
The first thirty pages were financial records.
Property addresses.
Payments.
Transfers.
Names.
But then I found something strange.
Every few pages, my mother had written one word in red ink:
ORIGINAL.
I flipped further.
There was a list of properties.
Most were in San Antonio.
One was in Austin.
Another was outside New Braunfels.
And one address stopped me cold.
It was our house.
I looked at Elena.
“What?”
I showed her.
Her face went pale.
“Why is our address here?”
I turned the page.
There was a figure next to it.
$860,000
Then another note:
Transfer after signature.
My mother whispered, “Don't.”
I looked at her.
“Don't what?”
“Keep reading.”
“Why?”
“Because you're going to think I did something to you.”
“You listed our house in a financial notebook.”
“I was trying to protect it.”
“From whom?”
She didn't answer.
Then Sofía walked into the room.
She was wearing pajamas now.
She held her stuffed rabbit against her chest.
“Daddy?”
I immediately closed the notebook.
“What is it?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
She looked at Grandma.
Then back at me.
“Before Grandma put me in the pool, she was talking to a man.”
My mother went rigid.
“What man?”
Sofía frowned.
“I don't know his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was tall.”
“That isn't enough.”
“He had a gray hat.”
My mother stood abruptly.
“That's enough.”
I turned.
“Mom?”
She looked terrified.
“Don't ask her anything else.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn't know what she heard.”
Sofía frowned.
“I heard him say Daddy signed it.”
My stomach tightened.
“Signed what?”
Sofía looked at Grandma.
Diana whispered:
“Oh God.”
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
I walked toward the front door.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Don't open it.”
“Who is it?”
“I don't know.”
The bell rang again.
This time, a man's voice came through the door.
“David Hayes?”
I looked at Elena.
Her eyes widened.
The voice continued.
“We need to talk about your mother.”
My mother whispered:
“That's him.”
I looked through the glass.
A gray SUV was parked at the curb.
A man wearing a gray hat stood outside.
He wasn't looking at the door.
He was looking directly at the upstairs window.
May you like
Then he slowly raised his phone.
And pointed the camera toward our house.
