Chapter 3: The Secret Beneath the Paperwork
I couldn’t hear the crowd anymore.
Not really.
Everything became distant.
The cameras.
The whispers.
The footsteps on the stone courtyard.
All I could see was the photograph in my hand.
My father standing beside a man I didn’t recognize.
My mother beside him.
And the date.
Three years ago.
The year everything changed.
The year my parents stopped asking about my classes.
The year my mother stopped answering my calls.
The year they told everyone I was the problem.
“Who is he?”” I asked.
My father didn’t answer.
That terrified me more than if he had yelled.
Richard Hale always had an answer.
Always.
When I was ten and asked why Weston got a new bike while I got a used one, he said, “Because your brother understands priorities.””
When I was sixteen and asked why he never came to my debate competitions, he said, “Because some things matter more than attention.””
When I was twenty and asked why he told relatives I quit school, he said, “Because someone had to be honest.””
But now?
Silence.
My mother stepped forward.
“Simone, give me that.””
I moved the photo away.
“No.””
“Please.””
I almost laughed.
Please.
A word I never heard when I was the one begging.
Begging them to believe me.
Begging them to listen.
Begging them to stop telling people I was a failure.
“What is this?”” I asked.
My mother looked at my father.
That tiny movement told me everything.
They were afraid.
Not of me.
Of what I had found.
Dr. Ashby approached carefully.
“Simone, we should continue this discussion somewhere private.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
I looked at the hundreds of people watching.
“For four years, my parents made sure my humiliation was public.””
My voice grew stronger.
“So my truth can be public too.””
My father’s jaw tightened.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.””
I stared at him.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.””
The dean’s assistant whispered something to Dr. Ashby.
He nodded.
“Campus security has been notified.””
My father looked surprised.
Then angry.
“You’re calling security on your own father?””
I held his gaze.
“You stopped acting like my father a long time ago.””
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because somewhere inside me, the little girl who wanted him to be proud still existed.
She was still waiting.
Still hoping.
Still wondering what she had done wrong.
But she was tired.
Weston stepped forward.
“Simone, listen to me.””
I looked at him.
“Why?””
His face changed.
“Because I didn’t know about the insurance policy.””
“But you knew about the loan.””
He didn’t answer.
My silence forced him to.
“I found out later.””
“Later?””
He rubbed his face.
“Dad told me it was temporary.””
“Temporary?””
My voice shook.
“My entire future was temporary?””
“No,” he said quickly.
“That’s not what I meant.””
“Then what did you mean?””
He looked at our parents.
And for the first time in my life, I saw my brother scared of them.
Not disappointed.
Not embarrassed.
Scared.
Camille stepped beside me.
“I’m sorry.””
I didn’t look at her.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.””
“I know.””
The honesty hurt.
A campus officer approached my father.
“Sir, I need you to step back.””
My father stared at me.
“You think you’ve won?””
I said nothing.
He leaned closer.
“You don’t understand the picture.””
I looked at the photograph.
“What does it mean?””
His expression hardened.
“It means you should have stayed away.””
A chill moved through me.
“Stayed away from what?””
He turned.
The officer guided him back.
My mother followed silently.
But Weston stayed.
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
Then he whispered:
“Simone…”
I looked at him.
“The man in that picture isn’t just Dad’s business partner.””
My heart stopped.
“Who is he?””
Weston swallowed.
“He’s the person who helped Dad erase you.””
Before I could ask another question, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
I opened it.
And the first line made my entire body go numb.
*Simone, if you’re reading this, your father failed to keep you buried.*
May you like
The second line appeared.
*Now you need to know why he tried.*
