Chapter 4
I read Felicity's message six times.
The words didn't change.
What really happened to Mom.
For eighteen years, my mother's death had been the one subject nobody discussed.
I knew the official story.
She was driving home from work on a rainy Thursday evening.
Another car struck hers near a highway intersection.
She died before the ambulance arrived.
I was eleven.
My father told me it had been an unavoidable accident.
That was all.
Whenever I asked for details, he became upset.
So eventually, I stopped asking.
But now Felicity was threatening me with something about my mother's death.
Something she believed could hurt me.
My hands started shaking.
Naomi read the message over my shoulder.
“Jenna?”
I couldn't answer.
Silas took one look at my face.
“What happened?”
I handed him the phone.
He read the message.
His expression darkened.
“Do you have a copy of your mother's accident report?”
I shook my head.
“Dad always said there was nothing worth seeing.”
Silas looked at me carefully.
“Would you like my attorney to help you obtain it?”
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to go home, remove my shoes, and pretend none of this had happened.
But I could still hear Felicity laughing into the microphone.
Just a nurse.
And I could still see my father refusing to look at me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I want the truth.”
Silas nodded.
“Then that's where we begin.”
Naomi drove me home.
During the ride, she told me what happened after the storm twelve years earlier.
Her mother's death had occurred two years before the accident.
Silas was raising Naomi and Adrian alone.
On the day of the flood, Naomi had been traveling with a family driver.
A fallen tree blocked the road.
The driver attempted to turn around.
The vehicle slid into a drainage channel.
He escaped through the front window and ran for help.
Naomi remained trapped inside.
The water rose quickly.
“I thought I was going to die,” she admitted.
I remembered.
The freezing mud.
The broken window.
The sound of her screaming.
I had been driving home from a friend's house when I saw the vehicle.
I pulled over without thinking.
Climbed down the embankment.
And forced the damaged rear door open.
My wrist caught against jagged metal.
I barely noticed.
All I could think about was reaching the little girl inside.
“I remember you telling me not to close my eyes,” Naomi said.
“You were losing consciousness.”
“You kept saying someone loved me and needed me to fight.”
I swallowed hard.
“I didn't know what else to say.”
Naomi smiled through tears.
“It worked.”
She reached across the center console and squeezed my hand.
“Because of you, I got to grow up.”
I looked out the window.
For the first time in years, I felt proud of that seventeen-year-old girl.
Not because someone wealthy had finally recognized her.
Because she had done something brave when nobody was watching.
The next morning, my phone contained thirty-seven missed calls.
Twelve from Dad.
Nine from Patricia.
Sixteen from Felicity.
I didn't answer any of them.
Instead, I called my supervisor at Mercy General.
I requested two personal days.
Then I met Silas and his attorney, Daniel Brooks, at a small conference room inside the Montgomery Foundation.
Daniel was a quiet man in his forties.
He didn't waste time.
“We'll pursue two separate matters,” he explained. “The scholarship funds and your mother's accident.”
I nodded.
“Will my father go to prison?”
Daniel didn't pretend to know.
“That depends on what the evidence shows and whether prosecutors bring charges.”
I appreciated that answer.
For once, someone wasn't telling me what I wanted to hear.
They were telling me the truth.
Daniel placed a folder in front of me.
Inside were copies of scholarship reports.
Every year, my father had submitted paperwork.
Every year, money had been released.
Some payments were described as tuition support.
Others as housing assistance.
Several were listed under the names of students I didn't recognize.
But one name appeared repeatedly.
Felicity Parker.
I stared at it.
“She went to college on a full scholarship,” I whispered.
Daniel leaned forward.
“According to these records, the foundation also paid substantial educational expenses associated with her.”
I remembered Felicity boasting that Dad had covered her apartment and living expenses.
I remembered taking extra hospital shifts to pay my own tuition.
And I remembered Patricia telling me that nursing school was my choice, not their responsibility.
I pushed the papers away.
“I can't read anymore.”
Silas closed the folder.
“Then we stop.”
I looked at him.
“Why are you being so kind to me?”
He seemed surprised.
“Because you deserve kindness.”
I shook my head.
“You don't even know me.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Jenna, my daughter told me about you for twelve years.”
His eyes filled.
“She told me you were terrified too, but you stayed. You held her hand when nobody else could reach her.”
He paused.
“I knew enough to keep looking.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
Daniel's phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
His expression became serious.
“The county records office has located Rebecca Parker's accident file.”
My heart pounded.
“Already?”
“They've confirmed the file exists and can be released through the appropriate request.”
He hesitated.
“There's something else.”
I gripped the edge of my chair.
“What?”
“The original collision report names another person who was questioned about the events leading up to the accident.”
I felt sick.
“Who?”
Daniel looked directly at me.
“Patricia Parker.”
The room fell silent.
I shook my head.
“That can't be right. Dad didn't meet Patricia until after Mom died.”
Daniel glanced at Silas.
Silas said nothing.
I suddenly remembered something from childhood.
A woman attending my mother's funeral.
Tall.
Blonde.
Wearing a black coat.
She had stood beside my father near the cemetery gates.
I had asked who she was.
Dad told me she was an old family friend.
I hadn't recognized her again until years later.
When he introduced me to the woman he intended to marry.
Patricia.
My hands went numb.
“What was she doing at the accident scene?”
Daniel looked down at the preliminary records summary.
“She wasn't at the collision itself.”
He paused.
“She was identified as the person your mother had arranged to meet that evening.”
I stared at him.
Then my phone lit up.
A new message from Patricia.
You need to stop digging into the past. Your mother wasn't the saint you think she was.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Daniel.
“Get me the report.”
Because suddenly, I understood.
May you like
The family I had spent my life trying to please had been hiding something long before the wedding.
And my mother might have been the first person they betrayed.
