Chapter 15: The Family Member Who Knew Too Much
My aunt’s name was Susan.
My father’s older sister.
The woman who taught me how to bake.
The woman who held my hand when I cried after my father’s funeral.
The woman who told me, “Your dad loved you more than anything.””
Now I stared at her face in an old photograph and wondered how many times she had looked me in the eyes while hiding the truth.
My mother sat down.
She looked exhausted.
“Jessica…”
“No.””
I held up the photo.
“Did she know?””
My mother didn’t answer.
That was all I needed.
“She knew.””
“She was trying to help.””
I turned toward her.
“Help?””
My voice rose.
“She helped hide the fact that I was almost killed.””
My mother started crying.
“She thought she was protecting you.””
“Everyone thinks they’re protecting me.””
I threw the photo onto the table.
“Does anyone realize that’s exactly what hurts?””
Nobody spoke.
Ryan stepped closer.
“I’m sorry.””
I looked at him.
“For what?””
“For all of it.””
I believed him.
And somehow that made it worse.
Because he was the only person in the room who looked truly sorry.
Thomas picked up the notebook.
“There’s more.””
I stared at him.
“Of course there is.””
He ignored my anger.
“Your father left instructions.””
“For what?””
“In case the truth came out.””
I laughed.
“He really planned for everything.””
“Yes.””
“Except trusting the right people.””
Thomas didn’t respond.
I looked at the notebook.
“What instructions?””
He opened the final pages.
“There was one person your father believed could expose everything.””
“Who?””
He turned the notebook around.
A name was written there.
Susan.
My aunt.
My stomach dropped.
“He trusted her?””
Thomas nodded.
“At first.””
“At first?””
Thomas sighed.
“Your father discovered she had been helping your mother.””
My mother closed her eyes.
“Jessica…”
“No.””
I looked at her.
“I want to hear everything.””
She nodded slowly.
“The night of the accident, I called Susan.””
“Why?””
“Because I panicked.””
“About what?””
“Your father had confronted me.””
“About the money?””
“Yes.””
“And?””
She looked away.
“He said he was going to tell you everything.””
My chest tightened.
“And you were afraid.””
“Yes.””
“So you called Susan.””
“Yes.””
“What did she do?””
My mother’s voice dropped.
“She came over.””
The room became silent.
“What happened?””
“She told me she could fix it.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Fix what?””
My mother looked at me.
“The situation.””
I swallowed.
“And the brakes?””
She started crying.
“I didn’t know.””
I believed that she believed it.
But that didn’t make it okay.
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
From the same unknown number.
This time, there was a video.
I pressed play.
The screen showed my father’s office.
A security camera recording.
The date.
The night before he died.
My father entered the room.
He looked exhausted.
Then another person entered.
My heart stopped.
Because I recognized the person immediately.
My father turned toward them.
And said:
“I know what you did.””
The video ended.
I stared at the black screen.
“Who was it?””
Nobody answered.
Then Ryan whispered:
“Jessica…”
I looked at him.
His face was pale.
“What?””
He pointed at the screen.
“The timestamp.””
I looked again.
The recording date.
The time.
And something impossible.
May you like
My father had been talking to that person…
After he was already supposed to be dead.
