PART 2 The Blue Sewing Box - I Came Home From Saudi Arabia Early... And My Wife Was Hurting My 78-Year-Old Mother ⭐

The next morning, I returned to the hospital.

But this time, something was wrong.

My mother's room was empty. Her bed was stripped. Her belongings were gone.

I grabbed a nurse.

"Where is Margaret Carter?"

The nurse looked confused.

"She was discharged two hours ago. Her daughter-in-law signed her out."

My heart stopped.

"Vanessa?"

"Yes. She said she was taking her home to recover. She had all the paperwork."

I ran out of the hospital.

I called Vanessa's phone. No answer.

I called Michael's phone. Also no answer.

Then I called my attorney.

"They took her. My mother. They took her."

The attorney was silent for a moment.

"Daniel, listen to me carefully. If they have your mother, they can force her to sign documents. They can claim she's mentally incompetent and gain legal guardianship. By the time we challenge it, the assets will be gone."

"What do I do?"

"Find her. Quickly. And don't go alone."

I drove to the house Vanessa and I used to share.

The house where everything had happened.

It was empty. No cars in the driveway. No lights inside.

But the door was unlocked.

I walked inside cautiously. The house was silent. The furniture was draped in sheets. It looked abandoned.

Then I heard a sound from the basement.

A faint cry.

I ran down the stairs.

And there, in the dark, was my mother. Tied to a chair. Gagged. Bruised. Weeping.

I untied her quickly.

"Mom, are you okay?"

She nodded weakly. Then she grabbed my arm.

"They took the box, Daniel. The blue sewing box. Vanessa took it."

"Where did she go?"

My mother pointed toward the back door.

"To your father's old house. Michael is there. They're destroying the evidence."

I called the police on my way.

Then I drove to my father's house as fast as I could.

When I arrived, I saw Vanessa's car in the driveway. Michael's car was there too.

I entered through the back door.

Voices echoed from my father's study.

"Burn everything," Michael was saying. "The photographs. The letters. The safe. If Daniel finds any of it, we're finished."

Vanessa's voice answered:

"And the old woman?"

"Let her go. By the time anyone finds her, we'll be out of the country."

I stepped into the doorway.

"Going somewhere?"

They both turned.

Vanessa's face went white.

Michael's expression twisted into something ugly.

"Daniel. You're persistent. I'll give you that."

"I could say the same," I replied. "Ten years. That's a long time to keep a secret."

Michael laughed.

"You think you can prove anything? The evidence is gone. The safe is empty. By tomorrow, your mother will be declared incompetent, and I'll be her legal guardian. You'll have nothing."

I smiled.

"Is that so?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

"Funny thing about evidence. I'm a surveillance expert, Michael. I don't just install cameras. I make backups. Copies. Every piece of evidence I found in that safe has been uploaded to a secure server. The photographs. The letter. The bank records. Everything."

Michael's face changed.

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

I pressed a button on my phone.

Instantly, all the lights in the house went out.

Then a projector screen lowered from the ceiling.

And my father's face appeared on it.

His letter. His handwriting. His voice in my memory.