Chapter 2: The Friend Who Knew Too Much
I stared at Camille.
For years, she had been the one person who never questioned me.
The person who sat beside me in the library at midnight.
The person who brought me food when she noticed I was skipping meals.
The person who told me, “One day, Simone, everyone will know who you really are.””
But now she looked like someone waiting for a storm to arrive.
“Camille?”” I whispered.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
My father folded his arms.
“Interesting, isn’t it?””
I turned toward him.
“Don’t.””
He smiled.
That smile had haunted me since childhood.
The smile he wore whenever he believed he had trapped someone.
“Ask your best friend where the first copy of those documents came from.””
The crowd grew louder.
Dr. Ashby stepped between us.
“Mr. Hale, this is a serious allegation. If you have information, provide it properly.””
My father laughed.
“Information? I have plenty.””
My mother grabbed his sleeve.
“Richard, stop.””
“No,” he snapped.
“She wants everyone to know the truth? Fine.””
I looked at Camille.
“Tell me he’s lying.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Simone…”
That was enough.
The pain wasn’t from my father anymore.
It was from the hesitation in her voice.
“Why?”” I asked.
Camille shook her head.
“I didn’t know everything.””
“What does that mean?””
She looked at the folder on the podium.
“I found the first loan document two years ago.””
My stomach dropped.
Two years.
The same year the insurance policy was created.
“You found it?””
She nodded slowly.
“My mother worked at the accounting firm handling some of your father’s business paperwork. She noticed something strange.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“I tried.””
“No,” I said quietly.
“You didn’t.””
Camille looked down.
Because she knew I was right.
I remembered every night I cried about my family.
Every time I told her I felt like I was losing my mind.
Every time she hugged me and said my parents were probably just disappointed.
But she knew.
A part of her knew.
“Camille,” I whispered, “what else?””
My father answered for her.
“She gave us time.””
My head snapped toward him.
“What?””
Camille closed her eyes.
“Simone…”
“No. Look at me.””
She did.
“I need you to say it.””
A tear fell down her cheek.
“I thought I could fix it.””
The courtyard became unbearably still.
“Fix what?”” I asked.
She swallowed.
“Your parents were drowning financially.””
My father scoffed.
“We were protecting the family.””
I laughed once.
A bitter sound.
“Protecting?””
I looked at him.
“You used my name.””
He didn’t deny it.
That hurt more.
Weston finally spoke.
“Dad didn’t mean for things to go this far.””
I turned toward him.
“You knew?””
He looked away.
That was my answer.
The brother who stole my childhood bedroom.
The brother who got every opportunity.
The brother who watched my parents erase me.
He knew.
Dr. Ashby carefully lifted one document from the folder.
“Simone, these signatures need to be examined immediately.””
My father stepped closer.
“You think a few papers are going to destroy me?””
I looked at him.
“No.””
I pointed at the crowd.
“Your own words will.””
He froze.
Because the microphone was still recording.
The dean’s assistant stood nearby holding a tablet.
Everything had been captured.
Every threat.
Every confession.
My father’s confidence cracked for the first time.
Then Camille suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Simone.””
Her voice was urgent.
“There’s something else in that folder.””
I frowned.
“What?””
She looked at my parents.
“They don’t know you have it.””
My fingers moved through the documents.
I had checked the loan papers.
The insurance forms.
The forged signatures.
But there was one envelope I hadn’t opened.
One envelope Camille had slipped into my bag the night before graduation.
I looked at her.
“You gave me this?””
She nodded.
“I was afraid.””
I slowly opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A photograph of my father.
My mother.
And someone else.
Someone who should not have been there.
My hands went cold.
Because written on the back of the picture was a date.
And that date was three years before my parents claimed I had abandoned them.
May you like
Below it was one sentence.
*“Ask your father why he needed his daughter gone.””*
