Chapter 8 - THE STORAGE UNIT
The storage unit was small.
Ten feet by ten feet.
Metal shelves lined the walls.
There were boxes of photographs, financial documents, old tools, and books belonging to Nick’s father.
Nothing looked dramatic.
Then Linda pointed toward a gray filing cabinet.
“He told me that was important.”
Nick unlocked it.
Inside were folders.
Some were labeled with dates.
Others had names.
One folder said simply:
NICK.
Another:
EMILY.
My heart sank.
Nick opened mine first.
There were copies of emails.
Screenshots.
Notes.
A printed copy of my old rental application.
The application Martha had somehow obtained.
I stared at it.
“How did she get this?”
Linda shook her head.
Nick opened another folder.
Inside was a handwritten note from his father.
M spoke to the landlord.
Confirmed today.
Told him Emily intended to move Nick in secretly.
Not true.
I confronted her.
She says she only wanted to slow things down.
Nick sat down on an old chair.
“She admitted it to Dad.”
I continued reading.
Another note.
Anonymous complaint sent to Emily’s employer.
Language matches M’s emails.
No proof.
Must stop this.
My hands trembled.
The complaint had nearly cost me my first serious job.
Someone had accused me of lying on my résumé.
It took weeks to clear up.
At the time, Martha had comforted me.
I remembered her bringing soup to my apartment.
I remembered her telling me everything would work out.
Now I felt sick.
Nick opened another file.
Inside were notes from 2015.
Fake screenshots.
Possible source: Martha.
Draft language discovered on home desktop.
Confronted.
Denied.
Promised no further interference.
Nick whispered, “Dad was documenting everything.”
Linda nodded.
“He didn’t know what to do.”
“Why didn’t he leave her?”
“That wasn’t my decision.”
Linda looked sad.
“He loved her.”
Nick looked away.
“And he loved you.”
We spent three hours going through the cabinet.
The pattern became impossible to deny.
Martha hadn’t simply disliked me.
She had spent years trying to create small fractures.
Never enough to expose herself.
Just enough to make life harder.
Just enough to create doubt.
At the bottom of the final drawer, we found a small digital recorder.
Nick pressed play.
His father’s voice filled the storage unit.
“If anything happens to me before I resolve this, I want Nick to understand that Emily has not been the problem.”
Nick froze.
The recording continued.
“Martha believes she is protecting him from a difficult life.”
A pause.
“But she has crossed lines I cannot defend.”
I looked at Nick.
Tears filled his eyes.
His father continued.
“I hope she stops.”
Another pause.
“And I hope Nick never needs to hear this.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then Linda pointed toward the back of the drawer.
“There’s one more envelope.”
Nick pulled it out.
The front had a date.
Six weeks before his father died.
Inside was a photograph.
Martha was sitting at a restaurant table with a man none of us recognized.
On the back, Thomas Bennett had written:
PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR.
HIRED BY MARTHA.
PURPOSE UNKNOWN.
Nick looked at Linda.
“Do you know who this is?”
“No.”
I stared at the photograph.
May you like
We thought we had finally understood the extent of Martha’s interference.
Instead, we had just discovered she once paid someone to investigate us.
