Chapter 5: The Night My Mother Died
I showed Rebecca the messages in the parking garage.
She read them without moving, her thumb hovering above the screen.
"Who could have sent this?"" I asked.
Rebecca looked toward the elevator.
"I don't know.""
"You're lying.""
Her eyes snapped to mine.
"Lily—"
"You recognized something. I saw your face when you read the message.""
She looked down.
"I recognized the implication. That's not the same as knowing who sent it.""
"What happened the night Mom died?""
Rebecca closed her eyes.
A car passed behind us, its headlights briefly illuminating the concrete pillars.
"Your mother died in the hospital," she said quietly.
"You know that.""
"I know she was admitted after her breathing got worse. Dad told me he was holding her hand when she died.""
"That is what he told you.""
The words chilled me.
"What does that mean?""
Rebecca opened her mouth, then stopped.
She looked as if she were struggling to decide whether telling me the truth would hurt me more than keeping it hidden.
Finally, she took a slow breath.
"It means there are parts of that night I never understood. Your father was at the hospital. Vanessa was there, too, even though she wasn't your father's wife yet. And afterward, your father refused to talk about what happened.""
"Why?""
"He said he couldn't bear to remember it.""
"That doesn't explain anything.""
"No, it doesn't.""
I stared at her.
"Did Mom know Vanessa?""
"Yes.""
"Did they fight?""
Rebecca hesitated.
"Your mother was uncomfortable with how close Vanessa had become to your father. But she never wanted you to grow up thinking you had to hate anyone on her behalf.""
I felt anger rising in my chest.
"Why does everyone keep protecting me by hiding things?""
Rebecca flinched.
I regretted the words immediately, but I couldn't take them back.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"I just need to know what happened.""
Rebecca wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
"I understand.""
She glanced at the message again.
"First, we'll show this to Martin and the police. Then we'll speak with your father. Whatever the truth is, you shouldn't have to uncover it alone.""
We drove to Aunt Rebecca's house.
I spent the afternoon trying to concentrate on homework, but the words in my textbook blurred together. Every few minutes, I checked my phone.
Dad had sent three messages.
I'm sorry.
Please call me when you're ready.
I love you, Lily.
I didn't respond.
At five-thirty, someone knocked on Rebecca's front door.
I looked through the window.
Dad stood on the porch holding a paper bag from the bakery near our old house.
He looked nervous.
Rebecca opened the door but didn't step aside immediately.
"She's here," she said.
"But you need to understand that she's not ready to pretend everything is normal.""
"I know.""
"Do you?""
Dad lowered his head.
"Rebecca, please. I need to talk to my daughter.""
Rebecca studied him for a moment, then let him inside.
He found me sitting at the kitchen table with my schoolbooks open.
He placed the bakery bag beside me.
"I brought your favorite.""
Blueberry muffins.
My mother used to make them every Sunday morning. After she died, Dad had tried to recreate the recipe, but he always put in too much cinnamon.
For years, these bakery muffins had been his way of apologizing after an argument.
I looked at the bag.
"You don't have to buy me things.""
"I know.""
"Then why did you?""
He pulled out the chair opposite me.
"Because I didn't know what else to bring.""
The honesty in his answer caught me off guard.
He looked at my untouched homework.
"How are you doing?""
"Do you want the honest answer?""
"Yes.""
"I'm scared. I'm angry. I don't know who to trust, and I keep getting messages about Mom's death from someone I don't know.""
Dad's face changed.
"What messages?""
I handed him my phone.
He read them once, then again.
His hand began to shake.
"Where did this come from?""
"An unknown number.""
He stared at the screen.
"Did you show Rebecca?""
"Yes.""
"What did she say?""
"She said there are things about that night she never understood.""
Dad placed the phone on the table.
"Your mother was very sick, Lily.""
"I know.""
"Her condition deteriorated quickly. The doctors did everything they could.""
"That's what you've always told me.""
"Because it's true.""
"Then why are you afraid of that message?""
He looked at me sharply.
"I'm not afraid.""
"Dad, your hands are shaking.""
He folded them together.
For several seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the refrigerator.
Then he whispered, "There are things about your mother's final night that I wish I had handled differently.""
My heart began to pound.
"What things?""
He stared at the table.
"Vanessa and I had been arguing. Your mother had been asking questions about some financial documents, and Vanessa said she was making accusations because she didn't want me to move on with my life.""
"What documents?""
"I don't remember every detail.""
"How can you not remember?""
"Because I was exhausted, Lily! Your mother was dying. I was trying to keep the house running, take care of you, and make decisions I didn't know how to make.""
His voice cracked.
I sat still, stunned by the anger in his words.
He immediately looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice.""
I swallowed.
"What happened at the hospital?""
Dad rubbed his face.
"Your mother asked to speak to me alone. Vanessa had stepped into the corridor. Your mother told me she was worried about you and asked me to promise that no one would ever make you feel like a guest in your own home.""
Tears burned my eyes.
"Did you promise?""
"Yes.""
"Then why did you let Vanessa treat me that way?""
He lowered his head.
"I thought I was managing things. I kept telling myself she was adjusting, that you were both grieving, that if I gave it enough time, everything would settle down.""
"It never settled down.""
"I know.""
"No, Dad. You don't know what it felt like to come home every day and wonder what I would be accused of next.""
He nodded, tears gathering in his eyes.
"I know that now.""
I looked away.
For a moment, I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to tell him that he was still my father, that I understood he had been grieving, that we could start over.
But I remembered the necklace.
I remembered Chloe's trembling hands.
And I remembered the forged signature.
"Did Mom say anything about Vanessa?"" I asked.
Dad hesitated.
"She said she didn't trust her around your inheritance.""
The room seemed to grow colder.
"What exactly did she say?""
"She told me to make sure the trust remained protected. She said Vanessa had asked too many questions about money that wasn't hers.""
"Did you tell Vanessa that?""
"No.""
"Did you tell Martin?""
"I told him there were concerns, but I didn't explain everything. I thought it would create unnecessary conflict.""
I stared at him.
"Mom was dying, and she was worried Vanessa might take my money. You knew that, and you still let Vanessa manage our household finances?""
Dad looked as though I had struck him.
"Yes," he whispered.
"I did.""
I couldn't speak.
He reached toward me, then stopped before touching my hand.
"I was wrong.""
I stared at the table until the tears stopped falling.
"There's another question," I said.
He waited.
"Was Vanessa at the hospital when Mom died?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"She had come to bring me a change of clothes. I had been at the hospital for nearly two days.""
"Did Mom want her there?""
Dad's silence answered before he did.
"No.""
I felt sick.
"What happened between them?""
Dad shook his head.
"I don't know everything. Your mother asked Vanessa to leave the room. I went into the corridor to speak with the nurse. When I came back, Vanessa was standing near the window, and your mother was upset.""
"What did Vanessa say?""
"She told me your mother had accused her of trying to steal from you.""
I stared at him.
"Was it true?""
"I don't know.""
"You keep saying that.""
"Because I wasn't there for the whole conversation.""
"Then why did you believe Vanessa?""
Dad covered his face.
"Because believing her was easier than accepting that I might have made a terrible mistake.""
His admission hung between us.
For the first time, he wasn't blaming grief or circumstances.
He was admitting that he had chosen the easier explanation.
I stood and walked to the window.
Outside, a little boy rode his bicycle along the sidewalk while his mother followed with a grocery bag. The ordinary scene felt impossibly distant from the life I had been living.
"Dad, I need you to understand something.""
He rose slowly.
"Anything.""
"I'm not going back to that house while Vanessa is there. And I'm not going to let you tell me to forgive her because she's your wife.""
"I won't.""
"If she stole money, I want the truth. If she forged my name, I want the truth. And if you knew something about Mom that you never told me, I want the truth about that, too.""
Dad nodded.
"You deserve all of it.""
I turned toward him.
"Then tell me why you never showed me Mom's medical records.""
He froze.
"What?""
"When Mom died, I asked if I could see the papers from the hospital. You said they were too upsetting and put them away. I asked again when I was fourteen, and you said we should remember her as she was before she got sick.""
Dad's face went pale.
"I thought that was best.""
"For whom?""
He looked away.
Before he could answer, Rebecca entered the kitchen carrying her phone.
"Daniel, I just spoke to Martin. He's asked the police to document the messages, and he wants to preserve the original trust records before anyone accesses the filing cabinet again.""
Dad nodded.
"That's fine.""
Rebecca looked between us.
"Did you tell Lily about the hospital?""
"Some of it.""
"Then there's something else you both need to know.""
She placed her phone on the table.
"I found an old email from your mother. She sent it to me two days before she died.""
Dad stared at her.
"You still have that email?""
"I never deleted it.""
Rebecca opened the message.
The date was visible at the top.
Two days before my mother's death.
She began reading aloud.
Rebecca,
I need you to keep the blue folder safe. Daniel is exhausted, and I don't want to add to his burden, but I am worried about the documents Vanessa has been asking him to sign.
I tried to speak with him tonight. He says I'm overthinking things.
Maybe I am. I hope I am.
But if anything happens to me before I can explain everything, please make sure Lily's trust is reviewed independently.
Rebecca stopped reading.
I looked at Dad.
He had gone completely still.
"Did you know she sent that?"" I asked.
He shook his head.
"No.""
Rebecca continued.
There is one thing I cannot put in writing here. I need to speak to you in person.
Please come tomorrow if you can.
And Rebecca, whatever happens, don't let Lily believe that she was ever the reason I was unhappy.
Rebecca lowered the phone.
My chest tightened.
"Why would Mom say that?""
Dad sat down heavily.
"Because she knew you were blaming yourself for everything that was happening.""
I stared at him.
"Blaming myself for what?""
He looked at me with tears in his eyes.
"For being a child. For needing attention. For being upset when things changed. You thought your mother was worried because you weren't being good enough.""
I remembered those days.
I remembered trying to be quiet when Mom was tired, bringing her water, and hiding my tears when the nurses visited. I remembered asking her whether she would get better if I stopped asking questions.
I had been twelve.
And somehow, I had believed that if I behaved perfectly, the people I loved might stop leaving.
Dad came around the table.
"Your mother never blamed you, Lily. Not once.""
I couldn't hold myself together anymore.
I cried against his chest, and he held me while Rebecca stood beside us with tears running down her face.
For a few minutes, we were simply a grieving family.
Then Dad's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Vanessa.
He didn't answer.
It rang again.
Then a message appeared.
He read it, and all the color left his face.
"What is it?"" Rebecca asked.
Dad turned the phone toward us.
The message was short.
If you let Lily see those hospital records, you will destroy everything we built.
I stared at the words.
My father's hand began to tremble again.
Rebecca whispered, "Daniel, what hospital records is she talking about?""
He looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something in his eyes that terrified me more than guilt.
Recognition.
May you like
"There's something I never told you about the night your mother died," he whispered.
And before he could say another word, someone knocked violently on the front door.
