Chapter 5: The Award They Never Wanted Me to Have
I stared at the email on Silas Montgomery’s phone.
For a moment, I couldn't understand the words.
Not because they were complicated.
Because my mind refused to accept them.
*Nominee for the Montgomery Foundation Humanitarian Award.*
My name was underneath.
Jenna Carter.
My fingers went cold.
"The Montgomery Foundation?"" I whispered.
Silas nodded.
"After what happened to me, I created it.""
I looked at him.
"You created a foundation because of me?""
"Because of what you did.""
His voice was firm.
"There's a difference.""
The ballroom remained silent.
Everyone was listening.
Everyone except my family, who looked like they wished they could disappear.
I shook my head slowly.
"I don't understand.""
Silas glanced at my father.
Then back at me.
"After my heart attack, I spent months thinking about that night. Not just because you saved me.""
He paused.
"Because of what happened after.""
My eyebrows pulled together.
"What happened after?""
Silas took a breath.
"The hospital told me your name. I contacted them. I wanted to thank you. I wanted to make sure you knew how much that moment meant.""
He looked down briefly.
"But then I was told your family requested privacy.""
My eyes moved to my father.
He looked away.
A painful realization settled over me.
"They said that?""
Silas nodded.
"They told me you were going through a difficult time and didn't want attention.""
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was so perfectly cruel.
My family had taken the one moment where someone saw me and turned it into another reason for me to disappear.
"I never said that," I whispered.
"I know.""
Silas's answer came immediately.
"I know now.""
Felicity wiped her eyes.
"I was the one who told Dad to keep it from you.""
I turned toward her.
She looked smaller than I had ever seen her.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
For the first time, she wasn't the woman who controlled every room she entered.
She was just my sister.
A person who had made choices she couldn't take back.
"Why?"" I asked.
Her lips trembled.
"Because I thought you were already becoming everyone's favorite.""
I stared at her.
"Felicity...""
"I know how terrible that sounds.""
She looked down.
"Growing up, you were always the one teachers trusted. The one people came to when they needed help. Even when we were kids, strangers liked you.""
She gave a bitter laugh.
"I had to work for attention.""
The words hurt because they were honest.
But honesty didn't erase damage.
"You didn't have to destroy me to feel important.""
She looked at me.
"I know.""
"No, you don't.""
My voice shook.
"You don't know what it's like to spend years wondering if you're unwanted by your own family.""
Nobody spoke.
My father looked devastated.
But I wasn't finished.
"You didn't just hide a letter.""
I looked between them.
"You hid the fact that someone remembered me.""
My father closed his eyes.
That was the moment I realized something.
They weren't ashamed because they had hurt me.
They were ashamed because they had been caught.
Silas seemed to understand that too.
He turned to my father.
"Do you know what she did that night?""
My father didn't answer.
Silas continued.
"She wasn't looking for praise.""
His voice grew stronger.
"She wasn't trying to impress anyone.""
He looked around the room.
"She was seventeen years old. She was leaving a volunteer shift in the rain. She saw someone who needed help, and she stopped.""
He pointed toward me.
"That is who your daughter is.""
My eyes burned.
I looked away.
I hated crying in front of people.
Especially people who had spent years convincing me my feelings were inconvenient.
Silas stepped closer.
"And that's why I wanted her to receive the award.""
I looked at the email again.
"What award?""
"The largest recognition our foundation gives.""
He smiled slightly.
"Every year, we honor someone who changes a life without expecting anything in return.""
My throat tightened.
"And you chose me?""
"I didn't choose you.""
He paused.
"The committee did.""
A strange feeling moved through me.
Something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Pride.
Not the loud kind.
The quiet kind.
The kind that sits somewhere deep and reminds you that maybe you were never invisible.
Then my father spoke.
"Jenna.""
I looked at him.
"I was wrong.""
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Those words.
Two simple words.
But from him?
They felt impossible.
"I should have told you.""
I waited.
Because I wanted him to say more.
I wanted him to explain.
I wanted him to finally admit what he had taken from me.
But he just stood there.
And I realized something painful.
Sometimes people apologize because they regret what happened.
And sometimes they apologize because they finally have to face what they did.
I wasn't sure which one this was.
Then Silas's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
Not fear.
Concern.
He answered.
"Hello?""
A few seconds passed.
Then his eyes moved toward me.
"Are you certain?""
Everyone noticed.
Something was wrong.
Silas listened quietly.
Then he ended the call.
"What happened?"" I asked.
He hesitated.
And that hesitation scared me more than anything.
"Jenna...""
He looked at my family.
Then back at me.
"The person who sent this email wasn't the only one who knew about your nomination.""
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?""
Silas slowly lowered his phone.
"Someone tried to remove your name from the award list this morning.""
May you like
The room went silent.
"And the request came from someone in this room.""
