Chapter 3: The Name Hidden in the Accident Report
The room felt smaller after I saw the name.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe.
Not because of my injuries.
Because of the possibility that everything I thought happened was wrong.
“Miranda?”” Julian asked.
I stared at the phone.
The accident investigator had written:
*Additional witness information received. Driver may not have been solely responsible.*
Below it was the name of the person who had provided the information.
Lauren.
My sister.
“No,” I whispered.
My mother immediately stepped forward.
“What does it say?””
I handed the phone back to Julian.
He read the message carefully.
“I need to verify the details before making assumptions.””
My father looked nervous.
“Why is Lauren’s name there?””
Nobody answered.
That silence said more than words could.
My mother’s face changed.
“She was just a witness.””
I looked at her.
“You knew?””
Her eyes moved away.
“Miranda—”
“You knew something about my accident?””
She didn’t answer.
My chest tightened.
The pain medication suddenly felt too weak.
The worst part wasn’t the accident.
It was realizing there might have been something they weren’t telling me.
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Lauren called us after it happened.””
I stared at him.
“After what happened?””
“The crash.””
“When?””
He hesitated.
“Before you woke up.””
The room went silent.
I felt cold.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?””
My mother’s voice became defensive.
“Because you were injured.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“Because you were busy.””
“That’s not fair,” my father said.
I looked at him.
“Isn’t it?””
He had no answer.
Julian closed the folder.
“I think we should discuss this when Miranda has more medical support.””
“No.””
I looked at him.
“I need to know.””
The truth had already been painful.
I wanted the rest.
My father sat down.
“Lauren was driving near the intersection.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
“She wasn’t involved in the crash,” my mother quickly said.
“Then why is her name in the report?””
Nobody spoke.
Finally, my father whispered, “She saw something.””
“What?””
“She saw the truck.””
I waited.
“And?””
He looked uncomfortable.
“And she saw the truck driver looking down before he ran the light.””
I stared at him.
“That’s all?””
My mother answered quickly.
“Yes.””
But something in her voice told me it wasn’t all.
I looked at Julian.
He noticed too.
“Miranda,” he said carefully, “I recommend speaking with the investigator directly.””
My phone buzzed.
A message.
From Lauren.
I opened it.
My sister had sent only one sentence.
*We need to talk before Mom and Dad tell you the wrong version.*
I read it twice.
Then a second message appeared.
*I didn’t want you to get hurt.*
My fingers tightened around the phone.
My parents saw my expression.
“What did she say?”” my father asked.
I looked up.
For the first time that night, they looked afraid.
Not worried.
Afraid.
“Lauren wants to talk to me.””
My mother immediately shook her head.
“No.””
The speed of her answer surprised me.
“No?””
“She’s emotional.””
“She knows something.””
My mother stepped closer.
“Miranda, don’t let your anger destroy your relationship with your sister.””
I almost smiled.
My relationship with Lauren.
The same relationship where she borrowed money and forgot to repay it.
The same relationship where she called me only when she needed advice.
The same relationship where my parents always asked me to understand her.
But never asked her to understand me.
I looked at my mother.
“Funny.””
“What?””
“You’re more worried about my relationship with Lauren than whether Lauren had something to do with me ending up here.””
My father stood.
“That’s enough.””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“But I’m finally saying it.””
The monitor beside me beeped faster.
A nurse appeared at the door.
“Everything okay?””
Nobody answered.
Because nothing was okay.
Not anymore.
The nurse asked my parents to step outside for a moment.
They left reluctantly.
Julian waited until the door closed.
Then he spoke quietly.
“There’s another issue.””
I looked at him.
“What now?””
He pulled out a printed document from his briefcase.
“I received this while reviewing your updated estate documents.””
“What is it?””
“A transfer request.””
My eyebrows tightened.
“From who?””
Julian placed the paper in front of me.
The signature at the bottom made my blood run cold.
It was dated three days before my accident.
And it was signed by someone who should never have had access to my private accounts.
Julian looked at me.
“Miranda, I think your family may have known more about your finances than you realized.””
I stared at the signature.
May you like
Then the hospital door slowly opened.
And Lauren walked in.
