Chapter 4: The Message From the Dead
For three seconds, nobody moved.
The notification remained glowing on Patricia’s phone screen.
My father’s name.
A message from someone who should not exist.
Someone who had been buried six years ago.
I stared at the screen until my eyes burned.
“What did that say?””
Patricia immediately locked her phone.
“Nothing.””
My voice dropped.
“Nothing?””
She slipped the phone into her pocket.
“You’re tired, Emily. You’re upset. You’re looking for things that aren’t there.””
I looked at Michael.
“Did you see that?””
He looked between us.
“I saw a name.””
“My father’s name.””
His expression changed.
“Your father?””
“Yes.””
Patricia stepped forward.
“Emily, this is exactly what I mean. You jump to conclusions.””
I laughed quietly.
After everything that had happened, she still spoke to me like I was a child.
“You put my head in a bucket. You lied about it. You admitted you tried to destroy my wedding. And now someone is texting you using my dead father’s name.””
I pointed at her phone.
“And I’m the one jumping to conclusions?””
Michael looked uncomfortable.
“Mom, show her the message.””
Patricia’s face hardened.
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
Michael noticed too.
“Why not?””
She looked at him.
“Because this doesn’t involve her.””
I felt my stomach twist.
“Not involve me?””
My hands curled into fists.
“My father’s name doesn’t involve me?””
Patricia sighed.
“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.””
“Then explain it.””
She stayed silent.
That silence told me everything.
There was a story buried under years of lies.
And Patricia had spent years making sure I never found it.
The next morning, I woke up before sunrise.
I didn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her hands pulling my hair.
I saw Michael standing there.
Not stopping her.
Not defending me.
I walked downstairs quietly.
The house was dark.
For the first time since Patricia moved in, I felt like I was sneaking around in my own home.
I opened the kitchen cabinet where Michael kept important documents.
Insurance papers.
Tax files.
Old records.
I didn’t know what I was searching for.
I only knew I needed something.
Anything.
After twenty minutes, I found a folder hidden behind old receipts.
The label was handwritten.
*Emily’s Family.*
My heart started pounding.
I opened it.
Inside were copies of documents.
Bank records.
Emails.
And photographs.
Photographs of my father.
But not the way I remembered him.
Not laughing at family dinners.
Not teaching me how to ride a bike.
These pictures showed him standing outside an office building with Patricia.
Together.
My hands went cold.
My father and my mother-in-law knew each other.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned around.
Michael stood in the doorway.
His face was pale.
“What are you doing?””
I held up the folder.
“What is this?””
He closed his eyes.
“Emily.””
“No.””
I stepped back.
“Not my name. Not right now.””
I pointed at the pictures.
“Why is my father with your mother?””
Michael didn’t answer.
That was the moment I knew.
He had known.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
“You knew about this.””
“I knew Mom had met your father.””
“When?””
“Before we got married.””
I felt sick.
“And you never told me?””
“He asked me not to.””
I stared at him.
“My father asked you?””
Michael nodded slowly.
“He said he was trying to fix something.””
“What?””
He looked away.
“A debt.””
I remembered Patricia’s words.
Your father owed money.
But something didn’t add up.
“My father wasn’t rich,” I whispered.
“No.””
“Then why would your mother care?””
Michael looked at me.
“Because the money involved wasn’t his.””
The room went silent.
“What does that mean?””
Before he could answer, Patricia appeared behind him.
“You should have left that folder closed.””
I turned.
For once, I wasn’t afraid of her.
I was angry.
“You knew my father.””
She said nothing.
“You knew him before my wedding.””
Still nothing.
“Why?””
Patricia looked at Michael.
Then at me.
May you like
And finally said:
“Because your father destroyed my family.””
