PART 7 – The House by the River
The drive to the old estate on the edge of town took an eternity. Neither of us spoke a word. The only sound in the car was the monotonous ticking of the windshield wipers and the soft swish of the tires over the wet asphalt. The mist was beginning to lift from the water, giving the contours of the abandoned villas and orchards a ghostly look in the dark.
This estate had belonged to her family. We used to go here often in the early years of our marriage, long before the daily grind, work, and stealthy trips had driven us apart. Now it felt like a tomb.
I parked the car on the gravel in front of the dilapidated main entrance. The crunch of the pebbles sounded loud in the night silence. My wife immediately opened her door and stepped out, without waiting for me to help her. I hurried after her, buttoning up my coat against the biting river wind howling through the trees.
She walked to the heavy oak front door, pulled a small set of keys from her handbag, and slid the key into the lock. With a heavy, creaking groan, the door swung open. It smelled musty and dusty inside, of old books and faded memories.
"Come inside," she said briefly, stepping into the hallway and hitting the light switch. A weak, yellow glow from an old chandelier filled the entryway.
I followed her and closed the door behind me. The heavy click of the lock sounded in my ears like a prison door falling shut. She walked on to the salon at the back of the house, where large French doors looked out over the dark, flowing river. There stood a small table with two chairs, and—to my utter astonishment—a thick dossier filled with binders, photos, and legal documents was spread out across it.
"Sit down," she said, taking a seat herself on the other side of the small table and letting her hands glide over the papers.
I sank trembling into the chair opposite her. I scarcely dared to look at the documents, but when my gaze fell on them anyway, I saw familiar logos: bank statements from our joint accounts, property deeds of our house, and copies of contracts I thought had long since been destroyed.
"What is all this?" I asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
My wife looked at me, and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of triumph in her eyes. "This, my dear, is the inventory of everything you thought was yours. And as of tonight, it's all mine."
