Chapter 5
Dad stared at the photograph for a long time.
Then he looked at Madison.
“Where did you get this?”
“My mom's office.”
“You entered her office again?”
“She left last night.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Madison crossed her arms.
“I used the spare key.”
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“You should not have removed evidence.”
“I was scared.”
“For yourself?”
She looked at me.
“For her.”
That surprised everyone.
Especially me.
Dad called his lawyer.
Then the police.
Again.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, officers came to our house.
They photographed the folders.
Bagged the phones.
Took the laptop.
Asked Madison question after question.
She answered everything.
At least, I thought she did.
When the detective asked whether her mother had ever discussed hurting me, Madison shook her head.
“Not physically.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
Madison looked down.
“She wanted Emma humiliated.”
“Why?”
“Because she said Mr. Bennett's weak spot wasn't money.”
She looked at Dad.
“It was her.”
Nobody spoke.
I hated hearing it.
Not because it made me feel important.
Because it made me feel responsible.
Dad noticed.
“Don't.”
I looked at him.
“Don't what?”
“Don't turn somebody else's choices into your guilt.”
The detective glanced between us.
Then continued.
“Madison, when did you first learn your mother was interested in Emma?”
She swallowed.
“December.”
My stomach tightened.
Months ago.
“What happened?”
“My mom asked me about school.”
“That sounds normal,” the detective said.
“It wasn't.”
Madison rubbed her hands together.
“She asked who I hated.”
I stared at her.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
Madison didn't look at me.
“Emma.”
The answer hurt even though I expected it.
The detective asked, “Why?”
“Because she never reacted.”
Madison finally faced me.
“You made me feel stupid.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“I made you feel stupid?”
“You'd just walk away.”
“So you kept going?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because every time you ignored me, I felt like I didn't matter.”
For once, I didn't know what to say.
Madison continued.
“My whole life, if people were scared of me, it meant I mattered.”
Dad's expression shifted.
Not sympathy exactly.
Recognition.
Maybe he understood what kind of home created that belief.
The detective said, “And what did your mother say when you mentioned Emma?”
“She started asking questions.”
“What questions?”
“Whether Emma had friends. Whether teachers liked her. Whether she ever talked about her family.”
Madison wiped her face.
“I didn't know why.”
“But you answered.”
“Yes.”
“Did your mother encourage you to bully Emma?”
Madison hesitated.
That hesitation told me the answer.
“She'd laugh.”
My chest tightened.
“When I told her things we'd done.”
Dad turned away.
He walked to the window.
Madison continued.
“She said Emma needed to learn her place.”
“Did she know Emma was Daniel Bennett's daughter?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
I felt the betrayal differently now.
Madison had known.
At least since December.
She had known exactly who I was.
“You knew?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
“And you kept calling me scholarship trash?”
Her face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my mom told me not to let you know.”
I stood.
Dad turned.
“Emma.”
“No.”
I looked at Madison.
“You knew.”
“I didn't at first.”
“But then you did.”
“Yes.”
“And when you posted those pictures?”
“Yes.”
“When Chloe dumped juice in my backpack?”
“Yes.”
“When you told everyone my mother cleaned houses?”
“Yes.”
“Did you even know my mother is dead?”
Madison's face went white.
Dad closed his eyes.
I had never spoken about Mom at school.
She died when I was nine.
Cancer.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Dad and I rarely talked about it with outsiders.
Madison whispered, “I found out later.”
“You still kept saying it.”
“I know.”
My eyes burned.
“You don't get to come here with a backpack full of evidence and suddenly become the victim.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
I heard my voice rising.
“You humiliated me for fun.”
“I know.”
“You made me dread school.”
“I know.”
“You laughed every single time I wanted to disappear.”
“I know!”
She started sobbing.
Dad moved closer to me.
I stepped away.
“No. She needs to hear this.”
Madison nodded through tears.
“You're right.”
That stopped me.
She didn't defend herself.
Didn't blame Chloe.
Didn't blame her mother.
Didn't say she was sorry because adults were watching.
She simply stood there and took it.
The detective eventually asked Dad to let Madison stay somewhere safe while they tried locating her mother.
Charles wanted her home.
Madison refused.
Police couldn't force her to remain with us, obviously.
But because she was seventeen, arrangements became complicated.
Her aunt agreed to come get her.
Until then, she sat in our living room.
The silence was unbearable.
I finally went upstairs.
Noah texted.
YOU ALIVE?
BARELY.
RIDGEWAY IS CLOSED TOMORROW.
I hadn't heard.
WHY?
BOARD MEETING. INVESTIGATION.
Then he sent another message.
ALSO CHLOE POSTED SOMETHING.
My stomach sank.
WHAT?
A video link appeared.
I opened it.
Chloe sat in front of the camera crying.
“This has gone too far,” she began.
I knew immediately what was coming.
“I admit we made jokes about Emma, but people need to understand she was manipulating all of us.”
I froze.
Chloe continued.
“She knew who she was. She knew we didn't. She wanted us to look bad.”
Comments flooded beneath the video.
Some defended me.
Others agreed with Chloe.
Then she dropped the real bomb.
“And Emma wasn't always innocent.”
My stomach tightened.
Chloe showed screenshots.
Messages from an account with my name and profile picture.
The messages were vicious.
Calling Madison stupid.
Calling Chloe pathetic.
Threatening to expose their families.
Fake.
Every one.
But convincing.
I ran downstairs.
“Dad!”
Everyone looked up.
I showed him.
Madison stood.
“Those aren't real.”
“You know that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because Chloe has them.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Madison looked horrified.
“She made that fake account months ago.”
Dad stepped forward.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell anyone?”
“I forgot.”
I almost exploded.
“You forgot?”
“She made it as a joke!”
“A joke?”
Madison flinched.
“She wanted screenshots in case you ever reported us.”
The room went dead silent.
Dad's eyes were colder than I'd ever seen.
“So this was premeditated.”
Madison started shaking.
“We weren't going to use it.”
“Chloe just did.”
I called Noah.
He answered immediately.
“Hey.”
“Can you prove those messages are fake?”
Pause.
“Maybe.”
“How?”
“Metadata if we can get the originals.”
Dad held out his hand.
I gave him the phone.
“Noah, this is Emma's father.”
Long pause.
“Yes, sir.”
Dad almost smiled despite himself.
“Relax. Can you help?”
“I think so.”
Within an hour, Noah came over with his laptop.
He sat at our dining table while lawyers and police moved around him like he wasn't seventeen.
Madison stood behind him.
“Chloe used an app called MirrorChat.”
Noah typed.
“You remember the username?”
“Yes.”
She told him.
He searched cached pages.
Nothing.
Then he smiled.
“Got you.”
“What?” I asked.
“She reused a profile image.”
“So?”
“The fake account used a cropped version of your school photo.”
“Yes.”
“But look at the creation timestamp.”
He turned the laptop.
The image file had been generated weeks before the alleged messages.
Dad leaned closer.
“Does that prove Chloe made them?”
“No.”
My heart sank.
“But this might.”
Noah opened another window.
“The fake account's recovery email ends in C-R-17.”
Madison gasped.
“Chloe Renee. Her jersey number is seventeen.”
“Still circumstantial.”
“Wait.”
He typed again.
Then froze.
“What?”
Noah looked at Dad.
“I think I found something bigger.”
He turned the screen.
The recovery email wasn't the only account connected to the same device identifier.
There were four.
The fake Emma account.
An anonymous gossip page.
An account that posted the forged donation email.
And another account none of us recognized.
Its username was:
TruthAboutBennett.
It had not posted anything yet.
But twelve drafts were scheduled.
Noah opened the cached preview of the first.
My face drained of blood.
It was a photograph of my mother in a hospital bed.
Private.
Taken days before she died.
Underneath was a caption.
Daniel Bennett abandoned his dying wife while building his empire.
I looked at Dad.
He had gone completely still.
“No.”
His voice was barely audible.
“That photo was never public.”
Madison whispered, “My mom had it.”
Dad turned toward her.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
His hands clenched.
“That picture was taken on my wife's phone.”
Noah clicked another draft.
A picture of Dad leaving a courthouse.
Another lie beneath it.
Then another.
And another.
A full campaign.
Designed to destroy him.
Not just financially.
Personally.
I looked at the scheduled release time.
6:00 a.m.
Tomorrow.
Dad immediately called his cybersecurity team.
But Noah shook his head.
“The account isn't the problem.”
“What is?”
“Whoever scheduled these may have backups.”
Dad stared at the screen.
I looked at Madison.
“Where would your mother go?”
“I don't know.”
“You have to know something.”
She shook her head.
Then stopped.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Madison looked at her own hands.
“There is a place.”
Dad stepped closer.
“Where?”
“My grandfather owned a lake house in New Hampshire.”
“Address?”
“I haven't been there since I was twelve.”
“Can you find it?”
Madison nodded slowly.
“But if she's there…”
Her voice trembled.
“She won't be alone.”
Dad frowned.
“Why?”
May you like
Madison looked at him.
“Because my mother never does the dirty work herself.”
