Chapter 6: The Person Who Watched Me Grow Up
The name sat between us like a storm.
Nobody spoke.
Not Thomas.
Not my father.
Not me.
Because once my father said it out loud, the person I had known my entire life suddenly felt like a stranger.
“Linda,” my father whispered.
My stomach dropped.
My aunt.
My mother’s closest friend.
The woman who brought food to our house after my mother died.
The woman who hugged me and told me I could always talk to her.
The woman who sat beside my father during the hardest months of his life.
“No,” I said immediately.
My father looked at me.
“Emily—”
“No.””
I shook my head.
“That doesn’t make sense.””
Thomas watched me carefully.
“I understand why you feel that way.””
“She loved my mom.””
My voice became sharper.
“She was there for us.””
Thomas nodded.
“That is why your mother trusted her.””
The sentence made my blood run cold.
Trusted.
Past tense.
My mother trusted her.
Until she didn’t.
I looked at the handwritten note again.
My mother’s handwriting.
Her fear.
Her warning.
“Why would Linda do this?”” I asked.
Thomas sighed.
“We don’t know her exact involvement.””
My father stood up.
“But you said she was helping them.””
“I said your wife believed someone was providing information.””
“And that person was Linda?””
Thomas looked down.
“Your mother wrote her name.””
The room became painfully quiet.
My father ran his hand through his hair.
“This is insane.””
I understood how he felt.
Because it was insane.
The people who were supposed to protect us had become the people we needed protection from.
I looked at the documents scattered across the table.
The contract.
The emails.
The bank records.
Pieces of a puzzle my mother had been trying to solve alone.
“What happens now?”” I asked.
Thomas closed the folder.
“Now, you learn everything your mother discovered.””
My father looked at him.
“And then?””
“Then you decide what to do with the truth.””
I didn’t like that answer.
Truth sounded simple.
But I was learning that truth could destroy everything.
The next morning, my father called Linda.
I sat across from him at the kitchen table while the phone rang.
Each ring felt louder than the last.
Finally, she answered.
“Daniel?””
Her voice sounded warm.
Normal.
That was the worst part.
She sounded exactly like the woman I remembered.
“Linda,” my father said.
Something in his voice made her pause.
“Is everything okay?””
“No.””
A silence followed.
Then she asked carefully, “What happened?””
My father looked at me.
Then at the papers.
“I need to ask you something.””
“Of course.””
“Did you know about Rebecca’s plans?””
The silence on the other end was immediate.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Silence.
My father noticed too.
“Linda?””
She exhaled.
“Daniel…”
My hands gripped the edge of the table.
“Answer me.””
Another pause.
Then she said something I never expected.
“I was hoping you would never find out this way.””
My father’s face changed.
“What does that mean?””
“It means your wife was right about one thing.””
My heart stopped.
“What thing?””
“She knew someone would eventually tell you.””
My father stood.
“Tell me what?””
Linda’s voice became quieter.
“Your brother wasn’t working alone.””
The room froze.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
My father stared at the phone.
“What are you saying?””
“I’m saying Michael and Rebecca were only two pieces.””
My father’s voice dropped.
“Who else?””
Linda didn’t answer.
“Who else, Linda?””
Finally, she said:
“Someone inside your house.””
My eyes moved around the kitchen.
Inside our house.
Someone who knew our routines.
Someone who knew where documents were kept.
Someone who had access.
My father looked at me.
Then upstairs.
Where Noah’s room was.
“No,” he whispered.
I felt a chill.
“Dad?””
He ended the call.
“What did she mean?””
He didn’t answer.
Because suddenly, he was thinking the same thing I was.
There had been someone else.
Someone closer.
Someone we hadn’t questioned.
Later that afternoon, my father searched through old family records.
I sat beside him in the office.
A room I rarely entered.
It had always been his private space.
But that day, every door in our family was opening.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“What?””
He pointed at a folder.
“Your mother kept everything.””
I looked through the papers.
“She was organized.””
“Exactly.””
He opened another drawer.
“She kept copies of bills. Medical records. Letters.””
He looked confused.
“But these are missing.””
“What?””
“Several files.””
“About what?””
He scanned the labels.
“Your mother’s medical treatment.””
The room became cold.
“What does that mean?””
My father didn’t answer.
Because the question was too frightening.
Someone hadn’t just hidden money.
Someone had hidden information about my mother.
A knock interrupted us.
We both turned.
Noah stood in the doorway.
“Dad?””
My father immediately closed the folder.
“What is it, buddy?””
Noah looked uncomfortable.
“Can I ask something?””
“Of course.””
He stepped inside.
“Is Rebecca coming back?””
The question surprised me.
My father looked at him.
“Why do you ask?””
Noah shrugged.
“She told me she might leave.””
My father froze.
“When?””
“Before she went away.””
My heart started beating faster.
“What did she say?””
Noah looked at me.
“She said if things got bad, I should remember that Emily was the reason.””
I felt sick.
“What?””
Noah looked scared.
“She said you wanted to take everything away from us.””
My father immediately walked toward him.
“Noah, listen to me.””
He knelt down.
“Your sister has never tried to hurt this family.””
Noah looked confused.
“Then why would Mom say that?””
My father didn’t answer.
Because he knew.
Rebecca had been controlling more than just me.
She had been shaping Noah’s view of the world too.
That night, after Noah went to bed, my father and I sat in the living room.
Neither of us turned on the television.
Neither of us pretended everything was normal.
Finally, my father spoke.
“I owe you an apology.””
I looked at him.
“Dad…”
“No.””
He shook his head.
“I need you to hear this.””
His eyes filled.
“I spent years believing you were becoming distant.””
I stayed quiet.
“I thought you were just a teenager pulling away.””
He looked down.
“But you weren’t pulling away.””
A tear fell from his eye.
“You were disappearing.””
My chest tightened.
Because that was exactly how it felt.
Like I had slowly disappeared inside my own home.
My father reached for my hand.
“I should have fought for you.””
I squeezed his hand.
“We’re fighting now.””
He looked at me.
And for the first time in months, I believed him.
But our moment didn’t last.
Because his phone suddenly rang.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“What is it?””
He didn’t answer.
He just showed me.
It was a message.
From an unknown number.
There was a photo attached.
My father opened it.
And both of us froze.
It was a picture of my mother.
Taken inside our house.
The night before she died.
I stared at the image.
Because in the background of the photo, standing near my mother’s office door…
was Rebecca.
And next to her…
was someone else.
Someone I recognized.
Someone who had been pretending to help us find the truth.
My father whispered:
“That picture was never supposed to exist.””
Then another message appeared beneath it.
May you like
Only six words.
*“Stop digging, or lose another daughter.””*
