Chapter 7 - Six Months of Lies
Sarah led us through the back of the church.
We entered a narrow hallway and climbed a staircase.
I kept thinking about her words.
Six months.
My father had been alive for six months after we were told he was dead.
Six months.
Six months in which I could have seen him.
Six months in which I could have told him I loved him.
Six months in which he could have told me the truth.
Instead, I had spent those months believing he had abandoned us.
I felt sick.
Sarah unlocked a small door.
Inside was a storage room.
She moved several boxes aside.
Behind them was a steel cabinet.
She inserted the key.
The lock opened.
Inside were dozens of files.
Photographs.
Recordings.
Contracts.
Medical records.
Letters.
My father's handwriting appeared everywhere.
I touched one folder.
December 2014 — Final Statement.
I opened it.
The first page was a medical report.
My father's name.
The date was three days after his disappearance.
The report stated:
Patient admitted under alias. Gunshot wound. Stable.
My hand began shaking.
He had been shot.
He had survived.
My mother had told us he died instantly.
I turned the page.
Another report.
Two weeks later.
Then another.
One month.
Three months.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Then nothing.
I couldn't breathe.
“Where did he go?”
Sarah sat down.
“He was moved.”
“By whom?”
“People who were trying to keep him alive.”
“Why?”
“Because he had evidence against Victor.”
“And my mother.”
Sarah nodded.
“Your mother knew where he was.”
My eyes burned.
“She knew?”
“She knew everything.”
“Then why didn't she bring him home?”
Sarah looked at me.
“Because John threatened to expose her.”
The words hurt.
My father had been hiding from the woman he married.
Sarah opened another file.
Inside was a transcript.
A conversation between my father and my mother.
The date was December 28, 2014.
Four days after Christmas.
I read the first line.
CAROLINE: You can't go back.
JOHN: They're my daughters.
CAROLINE: They're safe with me.
JOHN: They don't even know you're stealing from them.
CAROLINE: I'm protecting them.
JOHN: You're destroying them.
I stopped.
Sarah took the papers.
“There's more.”
She turned the page.
JOHN: If you hurt either girl, I will release everything.
CAROLINE: You won't.
JOHN: Try me.
CAROLINE: You think anyone will believe you?
Then the transcript ended.
I stared at the page.
“What happened after this?”
Sarah lowered her eyes.
“John disappeared again.”
“Where?”
“He went to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Victor.”
I felt a chill.
“Did he survive?”
Sarah hesitated.
“No.”
The room seemed to go silent.
“That's when he died?”
Sarah nodded.
“Six months after he vanished.”
I closed my eyes.
I had spent twelve years mourning the wrong date.
My father had not died on the day my mother told me.
He had died six months later.
Alone.
Fighting.
Trying to protect us.
I cried without realizing it.
Sophie wrapped her arms around me.
I held her tightly.
Sarah waited.
Then she said,
“There's one thing you need to know.”
I looked at her.
“Your father knew what was coming.”
“What?”
“He expected to die.”
She opened another file.
Inside was a letter addressed to me.
This one was different.
The handwriting looked weaker.
The words were uneven.
I read it.
My daughter,
If I don't make it home, remember one thing.
I never left you.
I pressed the letter to my chest.
Sarah looked away.
I kept reading.
Your mother will tell you that I chose money over family. The truth is that I chose you over everything.
I couldn't stop crying.
I need you to forgive yourself for believing her. You were a child.
The next sentence made me freeze.
But don't forgive her too quickly.
I looked at Sarah.
“What does that mean?”
Sarah pointed to the final page.
I read.
Caroline is not the only person involved.
Underneath was a list of names.
Victor Hale.
Caroline Bennett.
Richard Bennett.
Melissa Bennett.
I stared at the last three names.
My mother.
My stepfather.
My sister.
I looked at Sarah.
“Why is Melissa on this list?”
Sarah didn't answer.
Melissa stood in the doorway.
She had followed us upstairs.
Her face was white.
“I told you.”
I turned toward her.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew enough to be named.”
“I didn't know what the list meant.”
“You took the money.”
“I never wanted it.”
“You lied to me.”
“I was seventeen!”
“And my daughter?”
She flinched.
“What about Sophie?”
“You helped Mom humiliate her.”
Melissa broke down.
“I know.”
“You called her a loser.”
“I know.”
“You laughed.”
“I know!”
Her voice echoed through the room.
She covered her face.
“I hated myself every time.”
I stared at her.
“Then why?”
She lowered her hands.
“Because Mom had Owen.”
I didn't understand.
“What?”
“She threatened to take him.”
My stomach dropped.
“She said if I stopped obeying her, she'd use the money and the connections she had to make me lose custody.”
“That's impossible.”
“Maybe.”
Melissa wiped her face.
“But I was young. I believed her.”
I looked at Owen.
He was standing silently behind her.
His eyes were red.
He had heard everything.
Then he spoke.
“Mom…”
Melissa turned.
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know Grandma isn't good.”
My heart broke.
Even Owen knew.
Sarah suddenly looked toward the window.
“Someone's here.”
We all froze.
A car had stopped outside.
Black sedan.
Same one from the diner.
Sarah whispered,
“They followed you.”
Daniel's voice suddenly came through my phone.
“Get out now.”
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“Not important.”
“Daniel, they're here.”
“I know.”
“How?”
His voice became quiet.
“Because I'm watching them.”
I looked through the window.
A man stepped out of the sedan.
Then another.
Then a third.
Daniel whispered,
“There's one thing I didn't tell you.”
“What?”
“The person who hired them isn't Victor.”
My heart stopped.
“Who is it?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then said,
“Melissa.”
I turned toward my sister.
She stared at me in horror.
“What?”
Daniel continued.
“Your sister has been paying them.”
Melissa's face collapsed.
“I haven't!”
The call ended.
Nobody moved.
Then Sophie whispered,
“Mom.”
I looked at her.
She was staring at the photograph.
At the red triangle.
And beneath it, something I hadn't noticed before.
A handwritten number.
She pointed.
“That's not Grandpa's handwriting.”
Sarah stepped closer.
She stared at the number.
Then her face went pale.
“That is a phone number.”
“Whose?”
Sarah whispered,
“Mine.”
I looked at her.
“But if that's your number…”
Sarah nodded.
“I changed it twelve years ago.”
My heart pounded.
“So who wrote it?”
Sarah stared at the window.
“The person who wanted you to find me.”
Outside, the first gunshot shattered the church window.
Sophie screamed.
Sarah grabbed her.
I dropped behind the cabinet.
Melissa pulled Owen down.
Then another shot.
And another.
The glass exploded across the floor.
Someone shouted outside.
Sarah reached into the cabinet and pulled out a second envelope.
She shoved it into my hands.
“Don't open it here.”
“What is it?”
“The proof.”
“Proof of what?”
Sarah looked at me.
“Who really killed your father.”
Then she pushed open a hidden door behind the cabinet.
“Run.”
And as we disappeared into the darkness beneath the church, I finally understood why Sophie had been given that cruel note on Christmas morning.
My mother hadn't simply wanted to hurt my daughter.
She had wanted us to leave.
May you like
Because she knew the moment we walked away from that house—
someone else would come looking for the truth.
