Chapter 4 - The House That Was Mine
The account freeze hit at 2:06 p.m.
By 2:15, Mason called seven times.
By 2:30, Victor Ross called me directly for the first time in three years.
At 2:47, Brenda sent a message telling me I was “destroying Daisy’s family during a period of grief.”
That was almost impressive.
Daisy’s family had not noticed she was dead until I brought home her ashes, yet somehow I was now betraying them.
Callahan advised me not to answer anyone.
Instead, he arranged for a financial forensic team.
By evening, three Ross family credit facilities had been suspended because their collateral traced back to disputed trust assets.
Mason came home furious.
I was in Daisy’s room packing her things.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?”
I folded a tiny yellow sweater.
“Yes.”
“Our employees may miss payroll.”
“Then use Ross money.”
“That’s not how liquidity works.”
“You seemed to understand liquidity when you used my trust.”
He shut the door.
“Lower your voice.”
I looked at him.
“Daisy is dead.”
His face tightened.
“And you are still worried about volume.”
He came closer.
“I made mistakes.”
“Mistakes?”
“Yes.”
“You set the spending limit.”
“I set household controls.”
“You deferred her medication.”
“I didn’t understand the urgency.”
“It said emergency.”
His jaw worked.
“I was in a meeting.”
“With Sabrina?”
His eyes flashed.
“This is not about Sabrina.”
“No. That would be easier.”
For once, the affair truly was not the worst thing.
Mason sat on Daisy’s bed.
He looked at her rabbit.
Then suddenly he began crying.
I had never seen him cry like that.
Part of me wanted to comfort him.
My body actually moved before my mind stopped it.
That terrified me.
Even after everything, habit knew the path toward him.
I stayed where I was.
He picked up the rabbit.
“She used to bite this ear.”
“Yes.”
“She hated needles.”
“Yes.”
He covered his face.
“I should have answered.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were panicking again.”
I went still.
“Again?”
He looked up.
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
“Elizabeth, every fever became an emergency. Every cough became a hospital visit.”
“She had a heart condition.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His face hardened defensively.
“I was scared too.”
“No, Mason. You were inconvenienced.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Daisy died while you were having dinner with Sabrina.”
“I did not know she was dying.”
“You knew she needed medication.”
He stood.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“And you think that should do what?”
He stared.
“Bring her back?”
His face collapsed again.
For the first time, I understood that Mason genuinely believed remorse should stop consequences once he finally experienced it.
He had been raised inside a family that solved every mistake after the fact.
Money.
Lawyers.
Connections.
Apologies when necessary.
But Daisy was the first problem money could not reverse.
I closed the suitcase.
“I’m leaving.”
His head snapped up.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“This is your home.”
I looked around.
“Is it?”
He understood.
“You talked to Callahan about the house.”
“He says trust money purchased most of it.”
Mason’s expression changed.
“This property belongs to Ross Holdings.”
“Which received seven million from my trust three weeks before closing.”
“That was an investment.”
“Without my consent.”
“You benefited.”
I laughed.
“By sleeping in the back bedroom with a sick child?”
He came toward me.
“I can fix the financial side.”
“There is no financial side anymore.”
“Elizabeth.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“You don’t get to separate the money from Daisy. You created a system where I needed permission to care for our child. Then when that system killed her, you called it an administrative mistake.”
He looked like I had struck him.
I continued.
“I’m taking her ashes. Her clothes. Her records. I’m leaving.”
“Where?”
“Not your concern.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Not for long.”
He grabbed the dresser edge.
“You’re filing?”
“Yes.”
His face changed from grief to fear.
“You can’t.”
I stared.
“What did you say?”
He realized the mistake.
“Not now.”
“Why not?”
“Because the company is already unstable.”
I actually smiled.
There it was.
Again.
Company.
Family.
Money.
Always louder than me.
“I will file tomorrow.”
His voice dropped.
“If you do, my family will fight.”
“I know.”
“They’ll make this ugly.”
“It already is.”
“You think Callahan can protect you?”
I looked toward Daisy’s urn.
“No.”
Then back at him.
“I think evidence can.”
I picked up the suitcase.
As I reached the hallway, Brenda appeared.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“With Daisy?”
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
“Yes, Brenda. With Daisy.”
Her eyes filled.
“Can I say goodbye?”
That stopped me.
She had been cruel.
Dismissive.
Self-centered.
But Daisy had still been her niece.
I nodded.
Brenda entered the room.
She saw the urn and began crying.
Then she whispered something I did not expect.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
Her face crumpled.
“Megan told us Daisy’s treatment was approved.”
I went cold.
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Who is us?”
“Me. Mom. Victor.”
My pulse started racing.
“Why would Megan tell you?”
Brenda wiped her face.
“Because Mom asked whether you were exaggerating again.”
I stared.
Brenda continued, “Megan said Mason had handled it.”
I turned toward Mason.
He stood in the doorway.
Pale.
“Did Megan lie?”
He said nothing.
Brenda looked at him too.
“Mason?”
Still nothing.
Then my phone buzzed.
Callahan.
We found the medication money.
I opened the message.
The thirty-eight thousand dollars meant for Daisy’s imported medication had been transferred the same afternoon.
Not to the hospital.
To an event company.
The memo line read:
S. REED — PRIVATE DINNER / HOTEL.
I looked at Mason.
May you like
He looked back.
And the affair suddenly became part of Daisy’s death after all.
