Chapter 5 - A locked drawer.

Luca ended the call without giving Teresa an answer. 

She stood in the kitchen for another moment, the phone still in her hand, listening to the silence that followed. Emma had gone back to coloring, humming softly to herself as if nothing unusual had happened. Teresa looked at her daughter, then at the screen.

Lucas hadn't answered her question.

He'd simply said, "Can you meet me tomorrow morning?"

She should have said no.

Instead, she'd agreed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next morning, Teresa parked outside Lucas's house with a knot in her stomach.

She sat behind the wheel for a full minute before reaching for the door handle.

"This is the last time," she murmured to herself. "Whatever he's hiding... I find out today."

Lucas opened the door before she knocked. He stepped aside without a word. "Come in."

She walked past him into the living room. The house looked exactly as it had the day before—quiet, spotless, almost too orderly. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined one wall, filled with books instead of expensive decorations. A chessboard sat untouched on a side table, a game abandoned halfway through.

Lucas closed the door behind her. "Coffee?"

"No."

"Tea?"

"I didn't come here for breakfast."

He accepted the refusal with a nod and walked toward the kitchen anyway. "I'll make one for myself."

Teresa remained standing. "You said you had something to tell me."

"I do."

The kettle clicked on.

He leaned one hand against the counter, his back partly turned to her.

"Asher's changing the way he approaches this."

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

"He knows direct threats don't work anymore."

"So?"

"He'll stop trying to frighten you."

She folded her arms. "That sounds like good news."

"It isn't."

Lucas looked over his shoulder. "He'll make you doubt everyone else instead."

The words lingered between them.

Teresa thought of the flowers and of the smile Asher had worn in front of her coworkers.

Lucas has always wanted things that belonged to other people.

She looked away first. "You think I don't know how he works?"

"I think he's better at it than you remember."

Before she could answer, Lucas's phone vibrated on the counter.

He glanced at the screen. His expression changed. "I need to take this."

"Now?"

"It's my lawyer."

He hesitated, then set his untouched coffee mug down.

"I'll only be a minute."

Without waiting for a reply, he walked into the study across the hall and quietly closed the door behind him.

His voice became muffled.

Teresa stayed where she was.

She counted to ten.

Then twenty.

The house felt strangely still.

She wandered toward the bookshelf, pretending to study the titles.

History, business, psychology, and a shelf of children's books.

Her fingers paused. Children's books?

She frowned but kept walking.

A framed photograph caught her eye.

Lucas stood beside an elderly woman in a wheelchair, both of them laughing at something outside the frame.

Asher and their father wasn't there. 

She looked away. The study door remained closed.

Lucas was still talking. As Teresa turned back toward the living room, the strap of her handbag brushed against the edge of a metal filing cabinet tucked beside the bookshelf.

The top drawer shifted with a soft scrape. She stopped, it hadn't been fully closed.

She instinctively reached out to push it shut.

Before she could, a thick brown folder slid forward, tipped over the edge, and landed on the wooden floor with a dull thud.

Teresa stared at it.

Across the front, written in neat black block letters, were two words.

TERESA GRIMHOLLOW

Her name? The room seemed to narrow around her.

She looked toward the study, Lucas was still on the phone.

She crouched anyway. Her fingertips rested on the folder without lifting it.

Why would he have this? Another second passed. Then she opened it.

The first document was a hospital invoice.

She frowned. The date looked familiar.

Her eyes moved lower; emergency treatment, three fractured ribs. She remembered telling everyone she'd slipped in the bathroom.

The next page was another hospital bill; different dates and different injuries.

She turned the page again. A photograph. The dining room of the Grimhollow house.

One chair lay on its side, a shattered vase covered the floor, and dark stains marked the edge of the wall.

She knew exactly when that picture had been taken. Asher had thrown the vase after she'd asked why he'd missed Emma's birthday dinner.

She'd cleaned the mess herself and she'd never called anyone.

Her hand trembled as she turned another pages. 

Behind them were printed screenshots of text messages she'd deleted years ago.

If you embarrass me again, don't bother coming home.

Nobody will believe you.

Try telling the police. I'll make one phone call.

She swallowed hard. There were handwritten notes in the margins like someone had cross-referenced every incident. Someone had spent years building a case against Asher.

She flipped through the remaining pages faster now.

Everything was organized and dated. Nothing looked accidental.

Then a single receipt slipped free and landed across her knee.

Hospital payment confirmation. Outstanding balance...Paid in full.

Her eyes moved to the payer's information. Most of the name had been covered with thick black ink.

She leaned closer.

The ink hadn't completely hidden the signature beneath it.

Only two things remained visible. L. Grimhollow.

Teresa's grip tightened around the paper. The study door opened. Footsteps crossed the hallway...

She looked up slowly. Lucas stopped the moment he saw the folder.

For the first time since she'd known him, every trace of composure left his face. His eyes settled on the hospital receipt in her hand.

Lucas didn't move toward her. He simply closed his eyes for a brief moment.

When he opened them again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"You weren't supposed to find that..."

He looked at the folder, then back at Teresa.

"...not yet."