Chapter 4 - The Confrontation
The doorknob to the home office turned.
With a surge of adrenaline, Joanna shoved the stack of confidential documents directly into her oversized handbag, while Linda stepped swiftly in front of the desk, crossing her arms to block any view of the open drawer.
The door pushed open.
Derek stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, looking exhausted and anxious. When he saw Linda standing rigidly in front of the desk and Joanna clutching her bag near the bookshelf, his confusion instantly turned into defensive anger.
“What are you two doing here?” Derek demanded, stepping into the room. He glanced around suspiciously. “How did you get in? Joanna, you're supposed to be resting at the extended-stay.”
“We came to pick up some of my clothes, Derek,” Joanna replied, her voice remarkably steady, though her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. “Is there a law against a wife visiting her own apartment?”
“You didn't call me,” Derek said, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. He looked at Linda, then back at Joanna. “Why are you looking at me like that? What's in your bag?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Linda snapped, stepping forward to shield Joanna. “Move out of our way, Derek. We're leaving.”
Instead of stepping aside, Derek blocked the doorway, his jaw tightening. A dark, unpredictable flash crossed his eyes—the very same erratic intensity documented in the psychiatric reports Joanna had just read.
“Mom was right,” Derek muttered, his voice dropping dangerously low. “She said you were plotting behind my back. She said you and your mother were going to try to take my things... to manipulate me.”
“Your mother is a monster, Derek,” Joanna said, her voice cutting through the heavy air like a scalpel. She took a deliberate step forward, meeting his gaze head-on. “And you are the most pathetic coward I have ever met.”
Derek flinched as if he had been physically struck. A flush of red crept up his neck. “Shut up! You don't know anything about my family! Mom takes care of me! She protects me!”
“She doesn't protect you, Derek—she keeps you in a cage!” Joanna shouted, no longer holding back the white-hot rage building inside her chest. She unzipped her handbag just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the official Avalon Behavioral Center letterhead sticking out of the top. “Do you think I didn't find the file? Do you think I don't know about your medical history, your conservatorship, and the twenty-five-million-dollar trust fund your mother is stealing from you?”
Derek went completely, rigidly white.
The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably at his sides.
“Where...” Derek whispered, his voice cracking into a high-pitched squeak. “Where did you get that?”
“It was right here in your precious desk,” Joanna said coldly. “Hidden behind a false panel. Your mother lied to you about everything, Derek. She didn't want you to have a family. She wanted a puppet. And when I had preeclampsia... when I was begging you to take me to the hospital... your mother told you to let me die so she wouldn't lose control of her money. And you obeyed her.”
“No...” Derek gasped, stumbling backward until his back hit the hallway wall. He pressed his palms against his temples, shaking his head frantically. “No, that’s not true... Mom loves me... Mom said you were sick... she said you were lying...”
“Call her,” Joanna challenged, pulling out her phone and holding it out toward him. “Call your mother right now on speakerphone and ask her why she hid your psychiatric files from your wife. Ask her why she told you to let your unborn children die.”
Derek stared at the phone as if it were a venomous snake. His breathing turned shallow and ragged. A low, panicked whimper escaped his throat, and before Linda or Joanna could react, he turned on his heel and bolted down the hallway.
SLAM!
The front door slammed shut so hard the picture frames on the office wall rattled.
Silence swallowed the apartment once again.
May you like
Linda let out a long, shuddering breath, slumping against the edge of the desk. “My God, Joanna... that man is entirely broken.”
“He is,” Joanna agreed softly, staring at the empty doorway. “But he’s not our problem anymore. We need to get these documents to Mateo Vance immediately.”
