I didn't sleep much that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Derek standing beside my back door.
The crowbar.
The moving truck.
My mother's face when the officer told her she had no right to enter.
But something else kept returning to me.
The comment Derek had left beneath the photograph of my house.
He sounded so certain.
As though my refusal was a temporary inconvenience.
As though he knew something I didn't.
I had saved the screenshot before going to bed.
I had also sent it to Dad.
But after I turned off the light, I kept wondering how much he already knew about the man Carol had brought into our family.
Six months.
That was approximately how long Derek had been dating my sister.
Six months wasn't enough time for him to understand my family.
It certainly wasn't enough time for him to claim any place in my home.
Yet he had been willing to damage my door.
And he'd done it while my mother watched.
I lay awake thinking about Rebecca.
She had never met me.
She had no reason to protect my house.
But she'd sent documents showing that Derek had borrowed eighteen thousand five hundred dollars from her.
She also believed he knew about the seventy thousand Dad had given me.
That detail bothered me most.
Not because the gift was something shameful.
It wasn't.
Dad had helped me purchase my first home.
I had accepted his help and added years of my own savings.
There was nothing wrong with that.
But the way Derek appeared interested in the amount made me uncomfortable.
It was as though he had been studying what I owned.
Not who I was.
I got out of bed before I heard Dad moving around.
I went to the kitchen and filled the kettle.
The house was quiet.
Morning light came through the back window.
I could see the door Derek had tried to open.
The frame looked ordinary from where I stood.
I knew what had happened there.
But anyone walking into my kitchen would have seen nothing unusual.
That bothered me too.
Something serious could happen in a person's life, and afterward the room could look exactly the same.
I made coffee.
Then I sat at the dining table with my laptop.
The evidence folder was still there.
I opened it.
The first video showed my mother moving toward the back window.
I watched her look through the glass.
I watched Derek approach.
I stopped the recording before he raised the crowbar.
I didn't need to see that part again.
Not yet.
I opened Rebecca's email.
The attachments were still there.
I checked the loan agreement again.
The repayment period was twelve months.
The amount was eighteen thousand five hundred dollars.
Rebecca had said Derek never returned the money.
I wondered how many times she'd asked him.
I wondered what he'd told her when the first repayment failed to arrive.
Then I wondered what he'd told Carol about his finances.
Carol always spoke about Derek as if he were on the edge of becoming successful.
He had business ideas.
He needed space.
He supposedly had important work to do.
That was what I'd heard.
I hadn't been interested enough to ask questions.
Looking back, I wished I had.
Not because I could have controlled Carol's relationship.
I couldn't.
But because Derek had somehow become involved in decisions about my house.
My phone vibrated.
It was a message from Dad.
He was awake.
He asked whether I was downstairs.
I answered that I was in the kitchen.
A few moments later, I heard the guest bedroom door open.
Dad walked into the dining room.
He looked at the laptop.
Then at me.
“You're still looking at everything?”
I nodded.
“I couldn't stop thinking about it.”
He pulled out a chair.
“I saw what you sent last night.”
I turned the computer toward him.
“There's more than the public comment.”
He sat down.
I opened Rebecca's email and let him read it from the beginning.
He took his time.
He studied the photograph.
Then the transfer.
Then the agreement.
When he reached the part about Derek's financial stories, his expression changed.
He looked up.
“How do you know this woman?”
“I don't.”
“Have you spoken to her before?”
“No. She contacted me yesterday.”
He looked back at the screen.
“She knew about the truck?”
“Yes.”
Dad frowned.
“That's unusual.”
“I know.”
I told him Rebecca had been engaged to Derek.
I explained that she claimed he'd borrowed money for a business opportunity.
I showed Dad the agreement again.
He read the repayment clause carefully.
Then he sat back.
“Did he repay any of it?”
“According to Rebecca, no.”
Dad nodded slowly.
He didn't immediately say Derek was a criminal.
He didn't tell me to call Carol.
He didn't even suggest contacting Mom.
Instead, he asked another question.
“What else did she say?”
I opened the message about the seventy thousand dollars.
Dad read it.
He leaned closer.
Then he read it again.
I watched his face.
He looked more concerned than surprised.
“Who told Derek about that money?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you ever mention it to Carol?”
“No.”
He thought for a moment.
“Did you tell anyone connected to Derek?”
I shook my head.
“I barely knew him.”
Dad looked toward the window.
I waited.
Finally, he spoke.
“I never discussed the gift with him.”
“I didn't think you had.”
He turned back toward me.
“Then we need to understand where he got that information.”
I opened Mom's public post.
Dad stared at the photographs of my house.
He recognized the front porch.
The backyard.
The windows.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Your mother put all of this out there?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking you?”
“Yes.”
I scrolled down to Derek's comment.
Dad read it quietly.
Then he placed his hands on the table.
For a while, he didn't speak.
I could hear the refrigerator running behind us.
I looked at the screen.
The photograph of my house was still there.
Beneath it, Derek's words remained.
Nothing had been removed.
Nothing had been explained.
Dad finally looked at me.
“Mary, I don't think we should confront anyone yet.”
I nodded.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Especially Derek.”
I glanced toward the back door.
Dad noticed.
“He's already shown us how he behaves when he doesn't get what he wants.”
I swallowed.
“Rebecca asked me not to tell him she'd contacted me.”
“Then don't.”
I closed the photograph.
Dad continued.
“We should hear her explanation before deciding what to do.”
I opened a new message.
I thanked Rebecca for the documents.
Then I asked whether she would be willing to speak with Dad and me.
I explained that we wanted to understand how Derek had learned about my finances and what he had said about the house.
I read the message aloud before sending it.
Dad nodded.
“That sounds fine.”
I clicked send.
Then we waited.
I didn't expect an immediate answer.
After all, Rebecca was a stranger.
She had her own life.
Her own reasons for avoiding Derek.
And possibly her own doubts about becoming involved in another family's trouble.
Dad finished his coffee.
I closed the laptop and looked around the dining room.
The table was one of the pieces I had chosen for my new home.
It wasn't expensive.
I liked it because there was enough room to work and still have someone sit across from me.
When I bought it, I'd imagined peaceful mornings.
Coffee.
My computer.
Maybe Dad visiting for breakfast.
I hadn't imagined using it to examine evidence about my sister's boyfriend.
My phone vibrated again.
Rebecca had replied.
She agreed to speak with us.
She suggested a video call the following morning at nine.
I showed Dad.
He checked the time.
“That works.”
I answered Rebecca and confirmed.
Then I closed the email.
For the first time since opening her message, I felt as though I had taken a sensible step.
Not an emotional one.
Not a reaction.
I hadn't called Carol to accuse her boyfriend.
I hadn't argued with Mom.
I hadn't warned Derek.
I had simply arranged to hear what Rebecca knew.
Dad stood and carried his cup toward the kitchen.
I remained at the table.
I was relieved that he agreed with me.
But I was also frightened.
Because if Rebecca's suspicions were right, then Mom hadn't merely tried to give my sister a place to live.
She might have helped Derek gain access to something he wanted for reasons she didn't understand.
I thought about Carol.
She could be selfish.
She could be cruel when she felt entitled to something.
But I still didn't want her to be deceived.
That was difficult to admit after what she'd done.
Part of me wanted nothing to do with her.
Another part wanted to know whether Derek was using her.
Both feelings were there.
I couldn't pretend otherwise.
Dad returned to the dining room.
He noticed I was still sitting quietly.
“What's going through your head?”
I looked at him.
“I don't know whether Carol understands what Derek is doing.”
“We don't know what he's doing yet.”
“I know.”
He pulled out the chair again.
“That's why we're talking to Rebecca.”
I nodded.
Then I looked toward the evidence folder.
The files were arranged by date.
The attempted entry.
The messages.
The public post.
The loan documents.
I had spent years trying to become independent.
Now I was collecting proof that my independence had been challenged.
I wondered whether I'd ever be able to look at those recordings without remembering how frightened I had felt.
Dad rested his hand on the table.
“You did the right thing by saving everything.”
“I keep wondering whether I should have called the police sooner.”
“You called when you saw someone trying to force the door.”
I nodded.
He continued.
“You can't control what they decided to do.”
I looked toward the backyard.
The daylight made everything seem ordinary again.
The moving truck was gone.
The police were gone.
The street was quiet.
But the damage to my trust remained.
I had once believed Mom might respect my boundaries if I explained them clearly enough.
Saturday had proved otherwise.
She had seen my written refusal.
She had brought the truck anyway.
She had watched Derek approach my back door with a crowbar.
And even after the police arrived, she'd argued that Carol deserved the space.
I didn't know how to repair a relationship after that.
I wasn't even sure I wanted to try.
But I knew I couldn't ignore the possibility that Derek had planned something more serious.
Dad and I spent the rest of the morning making sure the recordings and documents were saved.
We kept the original files.
We made copies.
We checked that the screenshots showed the dates and names.
I didn't want to lose anything because I'd been careless.
By the afternoon, the evidence was organized.
There was nothing more useful to do until Rebecca spoke with us.
I tried to return to my normal routine.
It was difficult.
I kept checking my phone.
Not because I expected Mom to apologize.
I didn't.
I was waiting to see whether Rebecca would send anything else.
She didn't.
That evening, Dad reminded me not to contact Derek.
I promised I wouldn't.
Then we went over the questions we wanted to ask.
How long had Rebecca known him?
What had he claimed about his business?
Why had he borrowed so much money?
How did he know about my house?
And most importantly, what had he said he wanted to do after moving in?
I wrote the questions in a notebook.
Nothing elaborate.
Just enough to keep myself focused.
I placed the notebook beside my laptop.
Then I checked the calendar.
Nine o'clock the next morning.
I looked at Dad.
“I hope she tells us the truth.”
He nodded.
“So do I.”
I closed the notebook.
For once, I wasn't preparing to defend myself against my mother.
I was preparing to listen.
And I hoped that listening would help me understand why Derek had been so determined to get through my locked door.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Derek’s Former Fiancée Explained How His Supposed Business Success Had Cost Her Thousands, and Why She Feared He Was Repeating the Same Pattern
I Had Barely Settled Into My New Home When My Mother Arrived With a Moving Truck and Expected Me to Hand Over Everything
Part 5 of 15
