Chapter 4 Get My Mother's Things
By the time they left the airport, the sky had already darkened.
Lena ushered her three kids into the car and sped away from the place.
"Mom, where are we going now?" Liam asked, leaning over the back of the seat.
"We're heading to the old house first," she replied, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside. "I need to pick up something your grandmother left behind."
Her voice was calm, almost casual, but her grip on the steering wheel tightened with each passing moment.
Liam seemed like he wanted to ask more, but Max gently held his wrist.
"Trust Mom," Jade chimed in quietly.
The three kids fell silent, each settling back into their seats.
The car was filled with a quiet hum, the only sound being the tires against the asphalt.
Twenty minutes later, they turned into a quiet alley, the large old house at the end brightly lit.
As Lena got out of the car, she glanced back at her three children, her gaze softening.
"You guys go on up and rest. I'll be back soon."
The kids nodded and watched her walk out.
When she emerged from the house, the sky was even darker, the streetlights casting a dim glow.
The sound of her heels on the cobblestone was sharp and clear, but she didn't look back. She drove straight to the old part of town.
The streets there were narrow and worn, the pavement uneven with puddles in the cracks.
Sunlight barely reached this place, leaving the entire street in a perpetual gray.
She stepped on a loose brick; the sound of her shoe hitting it was muffled.
Lena stood in front of the Voss house, quietly observing the three-story building.
The gray-white walls were peeling, and the door frame was rusted.
Eight years had passed, and the house looked almost the same.
Maybe no one would notice if it had changed.
She reached out and knocked twice.
"Who is it?"
Valentina Voss's familiar, grating voice came from inside, followed by the sound of slippers on the floor.
The door opened to reveal a woman in elderly-style flannel pajamas, a mask on her face, her hair tied up haphazardly.
Her expression shifted from irritation to surprise, then to disdain.
"What are you doing back here?"
Lena didn't respond, just looked at Valentina with a calm expression.
Valentina peeled off the mask and tossed it in the trash, sneering. "What, can't make it out there and came back looking for a handout?"
Lena didn't bother with pleasantries. "I'm here to get my mother's things."
"What things?" Valentina rolled her eyes. "What could a dead woman have left behind? Debts? You want those too?"
"I'm here for her belongings."
Valentina spat on the ground and turned back inside. "What bad luck, seeing you at this hour."
The interior of the house was almost unchanged.
A faux-wood coffee table, a plastic vase with fake carnations, and an old leather sofa covered with cushions to hide the cracks.
A family photo hung on the wall, Lena's face on the edge blackened and scratched out.
"What are you looking at?" A sharp voice called out.
Seraphina came down the stairs in fuzzy slippers.
She saw Lena and paused for a second, then her expression turned to scorn.
"Well, Lena. Eight years and you still look like a mess."
Seraphina leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning Lena from head to toe like she was inspecting a piece of cheap, old merchandise.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the sofa, smirking. "You think you can just come and take things? This isn't your home anymore."
"When your mom dragged you here all those years ago, she didn't even have a proper ID. You think you have the right to claim anything?"
Lena's gaze was steady, looking at her like a bad penny.
Valentina chimed in. "Don't think that just because you've made some money out there, you're something special. Lena, you know what your mom was like. She left behind a bunch of junk, and you think it's some kind of treasure?"
"Junk?" Lena finally laughed.
Her laugh was soft, but in the quiet living room, it sounded like a whip crack.
"You didn't throw it away. Afraid you might miss something valuable, afraid I might come back for it one day." She walked slowly towards the coffee table, her eyes coldly sweeping over their faces.
"You didn't burn the medical journal, you polished the silver locket more than your jewelry, and you practically worshipped that bracelet. What, you think I didn't know? Or that I'd beg you to give them back?"
She suddenly stopped and pulled out a card from her bag.
"Fine, I'll make you an offer—there's five million dollars on this card."
"Take it as payment for your kindness and for everything my mother left behind—everything she wrote, wore, that you've coveted for eight years, all of it."
Her tone was light, but every word was sharp.
Valentina's face turned pale. "What do you mean?"
"It's simple." Lena leaned over and placed the black card on the coffee table. "Take the money and shut up, getting lost."
"This is the last time I'll set foot in this house."
She looked up, her gaze landing on Seraphina's flushed face.
Seraphina's eyes were filled with anger and shame, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She opened her mouth but couldn't say a word.
Lena smiled slightly, her voice like a devil's whisper.
"Eight years ago, you wore knock-offs pretending they were designer, your makeup was all samples, and the watches you posted on social media were so poorly mirrored."
"Now you look the part, but—" she glanced at the luxurious loungewear, "no matter how expensive your clothes, they can't hide your cheapness."
"Seraphina," Lena said slowly, "you're not even worth a piece of paper my mom left behind."
With that, she turned and walked towards the stairs, her steps steady as if she were stepping on their faces.
The living room fell into a dead silence.
Valentina's hand trembled as she reached for the card, her eyes filled with a mix of resentment and greed.
Seraphina bit her lip, glaring at Lena's back, her eyes practically dripping with venom.
But no one dared to speak.
Upstairs, the room was old, the wooden door creaking as it opened, dust filling the air.
Lena didn't hesitate, walking straight to the old desk by the wall, bending down to retrieve a familiar old notebook from the back of the bottom drawer.
The handwritten medical journal, its edges yellowed, was carefully wrapped in oil paper, still warm from recent handling.
Her eyes paused, fingers brushing over the cover, then she moved to the hidden compartment at the bottom of the wardrobe, pulling out a small wooden box.
The silver locket was there, heavy in her hand.
Inside the box was also a bracelet, her mother's dowry, now hers.
Lena gently wiped it clean, then placed everything into her bag.
She had what she came for—more easily than she had expected.
Lena walked down the stairs, her face expressionless, her black coat sweeping through the living room like a gust of wind.
Valentina sat stiffly on the sofa, her well-maintained face twitching; Old Voss stood by the window, a cigarette in his hand, the ash long and unbroken.
No one spoke.
The sound of leaves crunching under the car tires was faint.
It wasn't until the engine noise faded completely that Old Voss turned and stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray.
"You just let her take it?"
"What's the rush?" Old Voss turned, patting Valentina's shoulder lightly, his smile reflected in the window, eerie and distorted. "Let her be happy for a few days. She is just as foolish as her mother."