Chapter 13 - The Lie I Had Buried
Jackson saw the message.
“What you did?”
I closed my eyes.
There are secrets you keep because they protect someone.
And secrets you keep because you’re ashamed.
Mine was the second kind.
“Emily?”
I looked at him.
“Daniel didn’t just die after confronting Lorraine.”
“What are you saying?”
“The night of his accident, he called me.”
Jackson went still.
“You never told me that.”
“I know.”
“What did he say?”
“He was drunk. Angry. He said he had proof and wanted me to meet him.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“That’s your secret?”
I shook my head.
“I told him to leave me alone.”
My voice cracked.
“He said he was driving over. I told him if he showed up, I’d call the police.”
Jackson’s expression softened.
“That isn’t your fault.”
“There’s more.”
I forced myself to continue.
“Daniel told me his brakes felt wrong.”
Grant looked up sharply.
“What?”
“He said the pedal was soft.”
“Why wasn’t that in the original case?”
“Because I never told anyone.”
Silence.
“I thought he was manipulating me,” I whispered. “He had been drinking. He was emotional. I was engaged to Jackson. I wanted the past gone.”
Tears ran down my face.
“Forty minutes later, he crashed.”
Natalie covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“I’m so sorry.”
She cried too.
But she didn’t blame me.
That somehow made it worse.
Grant immediately documented my statement.
Then another message arrived.
YOU HAVE 20 MINUTES.
Police planned a controlled response.
They would surround my house.
I would not enter.
Of course, plans rarely survive contact with desperate people.
We reached my street.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Then Jackson’s phone rang.
Cassandra.
He answered.
“Cass?”
Her voice came through the car speakers.
“You always picked Mom.”
Jackson closed his eyes.
“Where are you?”
“You picked Emily too.”
“This isn’t about choosing.”
“It always was.”
“Cass, stop.”
“You had everything.”
“I was adopted, Cass.”
Silence.
She hadn’t known.
Jackson continued.
“Mom finally told us.”
Cassandra laughed bitterly.
“So even that was a lie.”
“Come out. We can fix this.”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
Cassandra whispered, “In the place Dad kept his real records.”
Jackson’s eyes widened.
He looked toward our house.
Then toward the neighboring property.
“The old storm cellar.”
“What?”
“When Emily’s dad owned this house, Dad bought the empty lot behind it.”
Grant radioed officers.
We moved.
Behind the fence, half hidden beneath weeds, was a rusted metal cellar door.
Police opened it.
Empty.
Except for a laptop.
On the screen was a live camera feed.
Mia’s hospital room.
My heart stopped.
“Mia.”
Grant grabbed his radio.
Then Cassandra’s voice came through the laptop speakers.
“You thought this was about old money?”
May you like
The video feed zoomed closer to Mia sleeping.
“This is about making all of you feel what I felt.”
