Chapter 8: The Truth Buried With My Mother
I spent the next hour sitting in silence.
My father didn’t say anything.
That scared me.
Because silence from my father usually meant he was carrying something painful.
Finally, I asked:
“Was my mother’s death really an accident?””
He looked down.
“No.””
The word shattered something inside me.
I had spent years believing I knew the story.
A rainy road.
A sudden crash.
A tragic night.
That was what everyone told me.
“She was investigating the Harrington family,” my father said.
“And someone wanted her to stop.””
I covered my mouth.
“Who?””
“We never proved it.””
“But you suspected.””
He didn’t answer.
I didn’t need him to.
The next few days became a battle.
Not just legal.
Personal.
The Harrington family began using every connection they had.
They called old friends.
They spread rumors.
They told people I was trying to destroy an innocent family.
But something changed.
People started asking questions.
Because for years, everyone had been afraid of the Harrington name.
Now they saw the cracks.
One evening, I attended a hearing regarding the ownership dispute.
For the first time, I walked into a room filled with people who once looked down on me.
Victoria sat across from me.
She looked smaller.
Older.
But her eyes still carried anger.
Her lawyer stood.
“Your Honor, my client believes these claims are based on manipulated documents.””
My father’s lawyer calmly replied.
“Then we have no problem presenting the original records.””
The documents were placed on the table.
One by one.
The room became quieter.
Then came the final piece.
A recording.
My mother’s voice.
I almost collapsed when I heard it.
“If anything happens to me, it means they found out.””
The room disappeared.
I could only hear her voice.
“Please protect my daughter. Do not let them take what belongs to her.””
Tears filled my eyes.
My mother had known.
She had known she might not survive.
And she had still fought.
After the hearing, Ethan found me outside.
“I’m sorry.””
I looked at him.
“For what?””
“For not knowing.””
I shook my head.
“You knew enough.””
He accepted that.
“I did.””
For once, he didn’t defend himself.
That night, I returned home exhausted.
But when I opened my bedroom door, something was wrong.
The window was open.
The documents on my desk were scattered.
Someone had been inside.
My heart raced.
Then I saw a note lying on the floor.
May you like
Only one sentence was written.
“Your father never told you the whole truth.””