Chapter 8: The Family Secret
I didn’t say anything after my mother’s words.
For a few seconds, I wondered if I had heard her wrong.
“Mom…”
My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Say that again.””
She started crying.
“She said your father knew she was going over.””
My stomach dropped.
“No.””
“I’m sorry.””
“No.””
I walked away from the phone.
James watched me.
“What happened?””
I couldn’t answer.
My mother continued.
“Claire, listen to me.””
I put the phone back to my ear.
“Did Dad help her?””
“I don’t know.””
“But he knew?””
“I think so.””
I closed my eyes.
The image of my father standing in our house came back.
His apology.
His sadness.
His regret.
Was it real?
Or was it another performance?
“Mom, where is Dad?””
“He’s at home.””
“I need to talk to him.””
“Claire—”
“I need the truth.””
I ended the call.
James didn’t ask questions.
He already knew.
“Your father?””
I nodded.
“He knew.””
James looked away.
For the first time since Thanksgiving, I saw him struggle to stay calm.
Not because he wanted revenge.
Because he felt betrayed.
“He let someone who hurt Emma get near her again.””
“I don’t know what happened.””
“But you’re going to find out.””
I nodded.
An hour later, we were standing outside my parents’ house.
The same house where Thanksgiving had happened.
The same place where everyone stayed silent.
My father opened the door.
He looked surprised.
Then he saw James.
His expression changed.
“Claire.””
“Did you know Lauren went to my house?””
He froze.
That was all the answer I needed.
“Dad.””
He stepped back.
“Come inside.””
“No.””
My voice was firmer than I expected.
“Answer me.””
He looked down.
“I didn’t know she was going to do that.””
“But you knew she was angry.””
“Yes.””
“And you knew she was coming over?””
He didn’t answer.
James stepped forward.
“Mr. Bennett.””
My father looked at him.
“I owe you an explanation.””
“Yes.””
My father sighed.
“Lauren called me after Thanksgiving.””
I waited.
“She was furious.””
“Because she was told to leave?””
“Yes.””
“And?””
“She said she wanted to talk to Claire.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Talk?””
My father looked ashamed.
“I told her she needed to calm down.””
“Did you tell her not to come?””
Silence.
That silence broke something inside me.
“You didn’t.””
My father swallowed.
“No.””
James’s voice was quiet.
“Why?””
My father looked at the floor.
“Because I thought it would blow over.””
There it was.
The same thing everyone always believed.
That if they ignored Lauren long enough, she would stop.
“She was angry,” I said.
“Yes.””
“She had already hurt Emma.””
“Yes.””
“And you thought letting her come near us was okay?””
My father’s eyes filled with regret.
“No.””
“Then why?””
He looked at me.
“Because I was afraid.””
That answer surprised me.
“Afraid of what?””
“Her.””
The word hung between us.
My father sat down.
“I should have stopped her years ago.””
James and I exchanged a look.
Years ago.
“What are you talking about?””
My father rubbed his face.
“Your sister has always known how to make people feel guilty.””
I stared.
“You knew?””
“I knew pieces.””
“Pieces of what?””
He hesitated.
Then he walked to a drawer.
He pulled out a folder.
My heart started racing.
“What is that?””
“Something I should have shown you a long time ago.””
He handed it to me.
Inside were printed emails.
Messages.
Letters.
All about Lauren.
Complaints from neighbors.
Apologies she never meant.
Promises she never kept.
And then I saw the final page.
A police report.
My hands went cold.
“Dad…”
He looked away.
“She did something similar before.””
“What?””
“She hurt someone else’s child.””
The room went silent.
James took the folder from me.
He read the page.
Then looked at my father.
“Why didn’t you tell your daughter?””
My father’s voice broke.
“Because I thought I could fix it.””
I stared at him.
“And now?””
He looked toward the window.
“Now I think I helped create this.””
My phone suddenly buzzed.
A message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence.
May you like
My blood turned cold.
*Ask your father why he deleted the original video.*
