Chapter 3: The Night My Father Died
I stared at Brianna.
The words she had spoken seemed to hang in the air between us, too terrible to touch.
“What did you just say?””
She glanced toward the hallway, then hurried inside and shut the door.
“I shouldn't have told you.””
“Brianna, look at me.””
She shook her head.
“Forget it. I didn't say anything.””
I grabbed her wrist.
“Did Vanessa kill my father?””
“Let go of me!””
She pulled away so violently that her bracelet struck the doorframe.
For a moment, we stood facing each other, breathing hard.
Then Brianna began to cry.
“I don't know!”” she shouted.
“I don't know what happened that night!””
I had spent two years listening to Vanessa describe my father's death as an unfortunate accident. A rainy evening. A dangerous road. A sudden loss that no one could have prevented.
I remembered the funeral, the black dresses, and the way Vanessa had clung to relatives while I stood alone beside the coffin.
I remembered asking why my father had called me three times that evening, only for Vanessa to tell me his phone must have malfunctioned.
I remembered the strange bruise on his wrist when they let me see him.
And I remembered Vanessa telling everyone that grief had made me imagine things.
“What do you know?”” I asked.
Brianna wiped her face.
“Two years ago, I heard Mommy arguing with someone on the phone. She was in Dad's study, and I was waiting outside because I wanted money for a school trip.””
“What did she say?””
“I don't remember everything.””
“Try.””
She squeezed her hands together.
“She said something about the papers being signed. Then she said, 'He won't be a problem anymore.''”
My mouth went dry.
“Who was she talking to?””
“I don't know.””
“When was this?””
“The night Dad died.””
I took a step backward.
Brianna rushed to explain.
“I didn't know what it meant! I was sixteen. I thought they were arguing about his business. Mommy told me he had been having problems with people at work.””
“Why didn't you tell the police?””
“Because Mommy said I would lose everything if I opened my mouth.””
I stared at my stepsister.
“You knew something was wrong, and you let me spend two years believing my father died in an accident.””
Her face crumpled.
“I was scared!””
“So was I!””
My voice cracked.
“I was eighteen, Brianna. I was a child when he died. I lost my father, and then I lost my home, my money, and almost my eyesight. Every day, your mother tells me I'm lucky she lets me live here.””
Brianna looked down.
“I know.””
“No, you don't.””
I turned away, pressing my palms against my eyes.
For a moment, I could see nothing but darkness and flashes of blue light.
The pain behind my right eye had returned.
When I opened my eyes, Brianna was staring at me.
“Is it getting worse?””
I wiped my face.
“That's none of your business.””
She looked ashamed.
“Mommy told me you were pretending.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course she did.””
“She said your doctor was exaggerating to get money.””
I turned toward her.
“Did you believe her?””
Brianna didn't answer.
That silence hurt more than any insult she had ever thrown at me.
I reached into my pocket and touched the silver key.
“Why did Vanessa want this so badly?””
Brianna swallowed.
“Because Dad left something in the study. A locked cabinet behind the bookshelves.””
My pulse quickened.
“What was inside?””
“I don't know. I only saw it once. Mommy was looking through papers, and she screamed when she couldn't open it.””
“Did she have the key?””
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
Brianna nodded.
“She searched Dad's desk for hours. She even made someone remove the bottom of a drawer. When she couldn't find the key, she said he must have given it to someone before he died.””
I looked down at the gown lying across my bed.
The silver key had been sewn into the inner hem.
My father had somehow known I would find it.
But why hide it in a dress I hadn't even designed until two years after his death?
Unless someone had placed it there recently.
A cold thought crept through my mind.
“Brianna, did you touch my dress before today?””
She shook her head.
“No. Why?””
I remembered the gown hanging overnight in the storage room. The unlocked cabinet. The old sewing materials Vanessa had ordered a housekeeper to move last week.
I had assumed she was simply clearing space.
But what if someone had deliberately placed the key inside my gown?
And what if Vanessa hadn't expected me to discover it?
My phone vibrated.
Mrs. Brooks had sent a message.
Do not return to the study alone. I am sending someone to meet you at seven tomorrow morning. Bring the key. Tell no one.
I showed the screen to Brianna.
She went white.
“Mrs. Brooks?””
“You know her?””
“Mommy said she was fired for stealing from Dad's estate.””
“Mrs. Brooks was his attorney.””
“I know. But Mommy said she betrayed him.””
I stared at the message.
For two years, Vanessa had controlled every story about my father's death. She had decided who was trustworthy, who was dangerous, and which memories I was allowed to keep.
Now the lies were beginning to unravel.
And I had a key that might prove all of them.
A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Nia!”” Vanessa called from the hallway.
“Open the door!””
Brianna flinched.
“Hide the key.””
I slipped it into the small pocket sewn inside my skirt.
Vanessa knocked again.
“I know you're in there. We need to discuss tomorrow.””
I opened the door a few inches.
She stood in the hallway holding a folder.
Her expression was calm again.
Too calm.
“I've decided to be generous,” she said.
“You can attend your competition tomorrow.””
I didn't trust her.
“What do you want?””
“Nothing, sweetheart. I simply realized how important this opportunity is to you.””
She glanced past me toward the gown.
“Of course, Brianna will still wear the dress.””
“No.””
Vanessa sighed.
“Must you make everything difficult?””
“You took it from me.””
“I borrowed it.””
“You threatened to throw me out.””
“Because you were behaving irrationally.””
I stared at her.
She smiled.
“Anyway, I've brought something that may interest you.””
She opened the folder.
Inside was a check made out to me for twenty thousand dollars.
My breath caught.
It was more money than I had ever held in my hands.
Enough to pay for my treatment.
Enough to leave the mansion and begin again.
Vanessa watched my face carefully.
“It's yours,” she said.
“No conditions. No arguments. Consider it an apology.””
I looked at the check.
Then at her.
“Why?””
“Because you're family.””
The words sounded almost convincing.
Almost.
I thought of the silver key in my pocket. Mrs. Brooks's warning. Brianna's frightened confession.
I thought of my father, lying in a coffin while Vanessa cried beside him.
“What do you want me to do?”” I asked.
“Nothing,” Vanessa replied.
“Just give me the key.””
There it was.
I lowered my eyes.
“I don't have it anymore.””
Her smile disappeared.
“What?””
“I threw it away.””
For a second, she looked as though she might strike me.
Then she slowly closed the folder.
“You're lying.””
“Prove it.””
Her face hardened.
“You have no idea what your father did to this family.””
“Then tell me.””
She stepped closer.
“Your father was not the man you think he was.””
“Neither are you.””
The silence that followed was so sharp I could hear the rain beginning outside.
Vanessa stared at me for several seconds.
Then she leaned toward my ear.
“If you go to Mrs. Brooks tomorrow, you'll regret it for the rest of your life.””
She turned and walked away.
I closed the door and locked it.
Brianna was standing beside the window, trembling.
“She knows,” she whispered.
I touched the key through my skirt.
“She suspects.””
“No, Nia. You don't understand.””
Brianna reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
Her fingers shook as she opened an old voice recording.
“I kept this from the night Dad died,” she whispered.
“I was afraid to listen to it again.””
She pressed play.
At first, there was only static.
Then came my father's voice.
“Vanessa, you promised me the papers were safe.””
A woman's voice answered.
“You should have signed everything when I asked.””
“I won't let you take what belongs to Nia.””
Then came a loud crash.
A gasp.
And Vanessa's voice, sharp and furious.
“If you walk out of this house, Robert, you will never see your daughter again.””
The recording ended.
I stood frozen.
My father's name was Robert Carter.
And those were the last words I had ever heard him speak.
Brianna began to cry again.
“I found it on an old tablet in Mommy's closet,” she said.
“I never knew what to do with it.””
I took the phone from her.
“There's more?””
She nodded.
“The recording stopped, but the tablet saved another file from the same night.””
She opened it.
The screen displayed a video thumbnail.
A timestamp.
And a title that made my stomach twist.
*THE NIGHT ROBERT CARTER DIED — 11:47 P.M.*
I pressed play.
The video showed the hallway outside my father's study.
The image was dark and grainy, but I could make out two figures arguing near the door.
One was my father.
The other was Vanessa.
Then my father turned toward the camera.
His face was bruised.
His shirt was stained with blood.
He looked directly into the lens and whispered something I couldn't hear.
Vanessa stepped into view.
She looked straight at the camera, smiled, and reached for the device.
The screen went black.
But before the recording ended, a final audio fragment played.
My father's voice, barely audible.
“Nia... if you're seeing this, trust the woman who has the original will.””
I stopped breathing.
Because the woman my father had named wasn't Mrs. Brooks.
May you like
It was someone I had believed had been dead for twelve years.
My mother.
