Chapter 8: The Mother’s Final Lie
The paper felt heavier than it should have.
It was only one sentence.
One name.
But somehow those few words carried the weight of everything I had lost.
*Marlene Hale.*
I read it again.
Then again.
My brain refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
The woman who held my hand at the funeral.
The woman who cried beside me.
The woman who called me her daughter.
Was she the reason Weston disappeared?
“Juniper!””
I turned.
Clara was running toward me through the rain.
Her hair was soaked.
Her face was terrified.
“What happened?””
I couldn’t answer.
Not immediately.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
I held up the paper.
She read it.
Her expression changed.
“No.””
“That’s what I thought.””
“Who wrote this?””
“I don’t know.””
“Where’s Weston?””
I looked toward the dark garden.
“He’s gone.””
Clara stared at me.
“Gone?””
I nodded.
“He disappeared when the lights went out.””
Her face tightened.
“This is insane.””
Yes.
It was.
But somehow, after everything I had learned today, insanity had become normal.
A police officer approached us.
“Miss Ellis?””
I turned.
“Yes?””
“Did you see where Mr. Hale went?””
“No.””
“Did he say anything before leaving?””
I looked at the paper in my hand.
“No.””
The officer noticed it.
“What is that?””
I hesitated.
Then handed it over.
He read the message.
His expression became serious.
“Who is Marlene Hale?””
I looked toward the reception hall.
“She’s his mother.””
The officer looked back at me.
“Then we need to find her.””
We rushed inside.
The wedding decorations were still there.
The flowers.
The candles.
The perfectly arranged tables.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Except now it felt like a crime scene.
Marlene was standing near the entrance.
She looked exhausted.
Like she had aged years in a single evening.
When she saw the paper in the officer’s hand, she stopped.
Her face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“You know,” I whispered.
Marlene closed her eyes.
“Juniper.””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“You don’t get to do that anymore.””
People nearby were watching.
Guests who came expecting a wedding were now witnessing something else.
A family falling apart.
“What does this mean?”” I asked.
Marlene looked at the officer.
Then at me.
“I need to explain.””
“Then explain.””
She swallowed.
“I didn’t kill anyone.””
The words shocked me.
Because I hadn’t accused her of murder.
Not yet.
But she had defended herself before I even asked.
The officer noticed too.
“Mrs. Hale, we need you to come with us and answer some questions.””
Marlene nodded slowly.
“I understand.””
I stepped closer.
“Why?””
She looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw something in her eyes that wasn’t fear.
Regret.
“Because I was trying to protect my son.””
I shook my head.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
My voice cracked.
“Everyone says they were protecting him.””
Marlene looked down.
“But nobody protected me.””
The sentence surprised me.
Because she was right.
She had hurt me.
But she had also been carrying something terrible.
And somehow, both things could be true.
The officer walked away with Marlene to speak privately.
I stood there watching.
Then I noticed something.
Claire.
She was gone.
I looked around.
“Where is Claire?””
Nobody answered.
My stomach tightened.
A few minutes later, I found her outside near the parking area.
She was standing beside her car.
Crying.
“Claire.””
She turned.
Her face was wet.
“I should have known.””
I stopped.
“Known what?””
“That something was wrong.””
I didn’t say anything.
She laughed bitterly.
“He never talked about his past.””
I looked away.
“I know.””
“No.””
She shook her head.
“You don’t.””
She wiped her face.
“I thought he was private.””
A pause.
“I thought he was hurting.””
Her voice broke.
“I thought I was helping him start over.””
I felt a strange sadness.
Because Claire had loved a version of Weston too.
A version built on lies.
“I’m sorry.””
She looked at me.
“I believe you.””
That surprised me.
“You do?””
She nodded.
“Because he never looked at anyone the way he looked at you.””
The words hurt.
More than they should have.
Claire looked toward the wedding hall.
“I spent months planning a wedding with a man who was still married to his past.””
I frowned.
“Married?””
She gave a sad smile.
“Not legally.””
Then she reached into her purse.
“I found something.””
She pulled out a small envelope.
“What is it?””
“I found it in Weston’s apartment yesterday.””
My heart stopped.
“You went through his things?””
“Yes.””
She looked ashamed.
“But I had a feeling he was hiding something.””
She handed me the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A photograph of Weston.
Younger.
Standing beside another man.
I recognized the face immediately.
The same man from the police report.
Ethan.
On the back of the photo were words written in black ink.
*Brothers by blood. Enemies by choice.*
I looked at Claire.
“What does this mean?””
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.””
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Again.
I stared at the screen.
Then answered.
“Hello?””
Silence.
Then a voice.
“Juniper.””
My entire body froze.
Weston.
“Where are you?””
His breathing was uneven.
“Somewhere I should have gone three months ago.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Why did you leave?””
A long pause.
Then:
“Because I finally remembered what happened that night.””
My heart started pounding.
“What happened?””
His voice lowered.
“I didn’t just find Ethan.””
Rain fell harder around me.
“What are you saying?””
“I remembered who was there.””
“Who?””
Silence.
Then I heard him whisper:
“Your father.””
I froze.
My father had died five years earlier.
He had nothing to do with Weston.
Nothing to do with Richard.
Nothing to do with the crash.
“What did you say?””
“I know it sounds impossible.””
“You’re lying.””
“I wish I was.””
My hands started shaking.
“My father?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
Weston’s voice broke.
“Because Ethan wasn’t the only person in that warehouse.””
The world felt like it tilted.
“Who else was there?””
He didn’t answer.
“Weston.””
A long silence.
Then:
“The night of the accident…”
His voice became barely audible.
“Your father was the one who drove away from the scene.””
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t breathe.
Because there was no version of reality where that made sense.
My father was dead.
My fiancé was supposed to be dead.
Ethan was dead.
Everyone connected to this story was either gone…
or lying.
“Where are you?”” I whispered.
Before he could answer, another voice came through the phone.
A woman.
Marlene.
“Juniper, hang up.””
My blood turned cold.
“How are you on this call?””
Silence.
Then Marlene said something that made my entire body go numb.
“Because Weston isn’t the one who called you.””
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Then slowly looked up.
Because behind me, standing under the rain…
was Weston.
Alive.
Holding a phone.
And looking terrified.
“I didn’t call you,” he whispered.
My blood ran cold.
“Then who did?”” I asked.
Weston looked past me.
Toward the empty road.
Toward the darkness beyond the trees.
May you like
And whispered:
“The person who knows what really happened to your father.””
