Chapter 3: What Was Missing From the Drawer
Adrian stood at the open drawer for a long moment.
The children's birth certificates were still there.
Noah's vaccination record.
The folder with Lily's pediatric notes.
But the envelope at the back — the one he had never told Vanessa about — was gone.
He turned around.
Vanessa was standing in the doorway of the office.
"Looking for something?" she said.
"Where is it?"
"Where is what, Adrian?"
"The envelope.
The one from my mother's estate attorney.
The one that was sealed."
Vanessa tilted her head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He crossed the room in three steps.
"Don't do that.
Don't stand there and look at me like I'm confused."
"You are confused." Her voice stayed smooth.
"You come home, you overreact about the kids, and now you're accusing me of going through your things.
This is exactly what you do, Adrian.
You look for reasons."
"Lily told me it's happened before.
The doghouse.
She nodded when I asked."
"She's four." Vanessa said it without blinking.
"She nods at everything."
Adrian stepped back.
He needed space between them.
He looked at the drawer again.
He looked at the empty slot where the envelope had been sitting for eleven months — ever since his mother passed and her attorney had handed it to him personally and said, *Do not open this until you are certain about your marriage.*
He had never told Vanessa it existed.
Which meant she had been searching.
"Get out of my office," he said.
"Adrian—"
"Get out."
She left.
But she didn't go far.
He could hear her heels on the hallway floor, slow and unhurried, like she had nowhere to be and no reason to rush.
He pulled out his phone and called the one person he trusted completely.
It rang twice.
"Marcus," Adrian said.
"I need you to come over.
Tonight."
A pause.
"What happened?"
May you like
Adrian looked at the empty drawer.
"I think I've been blind for a very long time."
