Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT MY FATHER NEVER CAME HOME

For years, I remembered my father’s death the same way.

A phone call.

A police officer at the door.

My mother collapsing.

A funeral.

A lifetime without him.

Everyone told me it was an accident.

Everyone.

But now Ryan was telling me something different.

My father didn’t just die.

Someone made sure he never came home.

I looked at Ryan.

“Why are you telling me this?”

His eyes dropped.

“Because I found out my mother knew.”

“You defended her.”

“I know.”

“You protected her.”

“I know.”

“You hurt me for her.”

His face tightened.

“I know.”

The pain in his voice almost made me feel sorry for him.

Almost.

Then I remembered his hand hitting my face.

“Sorry doesn’t erase what you did.”

He nodded.

“I know that too.”

For once, Ryan wasn’t making excuses.

That scared me more.

The next morning, my mother finally told me everything.

She sat across from me with tears in her eyes.

“Your father was going to leave the company.”

“Why?”

“Because he discovered Diane was stealing.”

I looked at her.

“And the accident?”

She looked down.

“I don’t know exactly what happened.”

“You’re lying.”

Her eyes filled.

“I know enough.”

The room became silent.

“Mom…”

She whispered:

“Your father called me that night.”

I froze.

“What?”

“He told me he had proof.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid.”

“For twenty-two years?”

She nodded.

“I was afraid Diane would come after you.”

My anger disappeared.

Because I finally understood.

My mother wasn’t hiding the truth because she didn’t trust me.

She was hiding it because she loved me.

Then Jake walked in.

“We have a problem.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

He held up his phone.

“Diane is giving an interview.”

We turned on the television.

Diane was sitting in front of cameras.

She looked calm.

Perfect.

A completely different person from the woman we saw three nights ago.

The reporter asked:

“Many people believe you were mistreated at a family dinner.”

Diane sighed dramatically.

“I never wanted this public fight.”

My stomach turned.

She was playing the victim.

Again.

Then she said the words that changed everything.

“I’m afraid Emma has serious anger problems.”

My face went pale.

The reporter continued:

“Are you saying you fear for your safety?”

Diane looked directly into the camera.

“Yes.”

Then she smiled.

A small, cruel smile.

Because she knew exactly what she was doing.

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