Part 3: The Person My Family Tried to Erase
Part 3: The Person My Family Tried to Erase
The silence after I said those words felt heavier than anything else.
"My family."
I hadn't planned to say it that way.
I hadn't planned to sound hurt.
I had spent years convincing myself that family problems were normal.
That everyone argued.
That everyone disappointed each other sometimes.
That forgiveness was simply part of being a good daughter.
But lying in that hospital bed, staring at documents containing a fake version of my signature, I finally admitted the truth.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
This wasn't a mistake.
They had chosen to take something from me.
The person on the phone didn't answer immediately.
Then I heard a quiet breath.
"Maren... are you safe?"
I looked around the hospital room.
The question surprised me.
Not because I wasn't safe physically.
Because nobody had asked me that in years.
"Yes," I whispered.
A pause.
"Then tell me what happened."
I closed my eyes.
The voice belonged to Adrian Cross.
The person my family spent years warning me about.
The person my father once called dangerous.
The person my mother told me to forget.
But he was the only person I could think of calling.
Because Adrian knew the one thing my family never understood.
How to fight back.
When I was twenty-two, before I bought my condo, before I built my career, I worked for a small investment firm.
That was where I met Adrian.
He wasn't like the people around my family.
He didn't care about appearances.
He didn't care about pretending everything was perfect.
He saw people exactly as they were.
And maybe that was why my family disliked him.
Because he noticed things.
Things they wanted hidden.
Including the way they treated me.
The way every family decision somehow became my responsibility.
The way I was expected to sacrifice while Liora was protected.
The way my parents called it love when they needed something.
Adrian was the first person who ever told me:
"Maren, helping people doesn't mean letting them destroy you."
At the time, I thought he was being too harsh.
Now I understood.
He was right.
I explained everything.
The surgery.
The missed calls.
The voicemail.
The forged signature.
The sale.
I expected anger.
Instead, Adrian became very quiet.
Too quiet.
"Maren."
"Yes?"
"Did they use your medical records?"
I frowned.
"What?"
"Think carefully."
I looked at the documents again.
"I don't know."
"Your parents knew exactly when you would be unconscious."
My stomach tightened.
"They knew the surgery date."
"Did they have access to your hospital information?"
I froze.
Because suddenly, another detail came back to me.
A week before surgery, my mother had asked me:
"What time are you going in?"
I told her.
I didn't think twice.
She was my mother.
Why wouldn't I tell her?
Adrian's voice became serious.
"Maren, this wasn't spontaneous."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"I know."
"No."
His tone was firm.
"I mean they planned around your surgery."
A cold feeling moved through me.
The wedding was three weeks away.
The condo sale had happened while I was unconscious.
The paperwork was already prepared.
The timing wasn't random.
They waited until I couldn't fight back.
I felt sick.
"I thought they were desperate because of the wedding."
Adrian answered quietly.
"Maybe."
A pause.
"Or maybe the wedding was just the excuse."
I stared at the ceiling.
For years, I believed my family saw me as the responsible one.
The mature one.
The person who could handle anything.
But maybe that was never respect.
Maybe it was simply because they knew I would tolerate it.
"Can you help me?"
Adrian didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The certainty in his voice almost made me emotional.
"First, I need you to do something."
"What?"
"Stop talking to them."
I looked at my phone.
"My mother will call again."
"Let her."
"What?"
"Don't argue. Don't explain. Don't give them information."
I listened carefully.
"Why?"
"Because people who know they're wrong don't usually apologize first."
He paused.
"They look for ways to protect themselves."
That sentence stayed with me.
Because it was exactly what my mother had done.
She didn't ask how I felt.
She didn't apologize.
She immediately tried to convince me that my reaction was the problem.
A few minutes later, Adrian called me back.
"I've reviewed the documents you sent."
My heart started beating faster.
"And?"
"Your signature is suspicious."
I closed my eyes.
"I knew it."
"But there's something else."
"What?"
"The buyer."
I sat still.
"What about them?"
"The company that purchased the condo."
I waited.
Adrian's voice became lower.
"It isn't a normal buyer."
"What does that mean?"
"It is connected to someone."
My grip tightened.
"Who?"
A pause.
Then:
"Your sister's fiancé."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"Liora's fiancé?"
"Yes."
I couldn't speak.
The condo hadn't just been sold.
It hadn't been a random transaction.
Someone close to my family bought it.
Someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
"Why would he buy my condo?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Then he said:
"That's what we need to find out."
My mind raced.
Liora's wedding.
My condo.
The forged documents.
My parents.
Her fiancé.
All connected.
But why?
What did they actually want?
Before I could ask, my phone received another notification.
A bank alert.
I opened it.
My eyes widened.
A transfer request had been submitted from my account.
The amount?
$50,000.
The recipient?
Liora's wedding account.
My family wasn't just trying to keep the condo money.
They were still trying to take more.
While I was recovering.
While I was barely able to walk.
I stared at the screen.
Then something inside me finally broke.
Not in sadness.
In determination.
I had spent my entire life being the person who saved everyone else.
Now I was going to save myself.
"Adrian."
"Yes?"
"I need everything stopped."
His voice became calm.
"Consider it done."
I looked at the hospital door.
Tomorrow, my family expected me to apologize.
They expected me to accept what they did.
They expected the same Maren who always gave in.
But that woman was gone.
Because they made one mistake.
They thought my silence meant weakness.
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They never realized it was patience.
And now their patience was over.
