CHAPTER 10 — THE TRUTH ABOUT MY FATHER
I read the final sentence of my father’s letter again.
“If anything happens to me, do not believe everything you are told.”
The words blurred as my hands began to shake.
For five years, I had lived with the belief that my father’s death was simple.
A heart attack.
A tragedy.
Something painful, but unavoidable.
That was what everyone told me.
That was what my mother told me.
But now, for the first time, a terrible question entered my mind.
What if there was more?
I looked at my mother.
She was standing across the room, watching my reaction.
Not shocked.
Not confused.
Waiting.
“You knew about this letter.”
Her silence answered for her.
“You knew Dad wrote this.”
She slowly sat down.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“And you hid it from me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
The same words.
Again.
Always the same excuse.
Protect you.
But every time she said it, someone else ended up hurt.
“You protected me from the truth?”
She looked away.
“Your father was angry when he wrote that.”
“Angry?”
I held up the letter.
“He was afraid.”
My mother’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You don’t know what was happening between us.”
“Then tell me.”
She didn’t answer.
“Tell me why my father was afraid of you.”
Her eyes became colder.
“He wasn’t perfect.”
I stared at her.
“That’s your response?”
“He made mistakes.”
“So did you.”
The room became silent.
For the first time, my mother had no quick answer.
I folded the letter carefully and placed it in my pocket.
“I want to know what happened the night before he died.”
Her face tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Dad was trying to warn me.”
“He was confused.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He knew something.”
My mother stood up.
“You’re letting Megan poison your mind.”
I almost couldn’t believe it.
Even now.
Even after everything.
She was still doing it.
Blaming someone else.
“Megan didn’t write this letter.”
My mother looked at me.
“She didn’t have to.”
I walked toward the door.
“Jake.”
I stopped.
Her voice sounded different.
Less angry.
More desperate.
“Don’t throw away your family.”
I turned around.
“I’m not throwing away my family.”
I looked at her.
“I’m protecting the one I built.”
I left.
When I got home, Megan immediately knew something had happened.
“What did you find?”
I sat beside her.
“The missing page.”
Her eyes widened.
“And?”
I handed her the letter.
She read it slowly.
When she finished, she looked at me.
“Jake…”
“My father knew.”
She placed the letter down.
“Knew what?”
“That my mother was capable of hurting people.”
Megan was quiet.
Then she said something I didn’t expect.
“Maybe he wasn’t the first person she hurt.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated.
“Your mother once told me something.”
“What?”
“She said people always leave her.”
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“She said your father almost left too.”
My stomach tightened.
“My father never talked about leaving.”
“I know.”
Megan looked at me.
“That’s why I remembered it.”
That night, I couldn’t stop thinking.
About my father.
About the letter.
About all the things I never questioned.
The next day, I started looking through old documents.
Bank records.
Medical papers.
Anything connected to the months before my father died.
And then I found something strange.
A medical appointment.
Three days before his death.
I had never seen it before.
My father had visited a doctor.
The appointment notes were brief.
But one sentence stood out.
“Patient reports high stress at home and fear of escalating conflict.”
My hands went cold.
High stress.
Fear.
Conflict.
My father wasn’t just worried.
He was scared.
I kept searching.
Then I found another document.
A voicemail transcript.
From my father.
To his doctor.
The date was two days before he died.
The message was short.
But it changed everything.
“I need help. I’m afraid if I speak openly, things will get worse.”
I sat back.
My father had been trying to get help.
He had been trying to protect himself.
And nobody knew.
Nobody except my mother.
That evening, I showed Megan everything.
She looked at me with sadness.
“Jake…”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“You have spent your whole life believing your mother was the person who protected you.”
I nodded slowly.
“But maybe your father was the one protecting you all along.”
The words hit me.
Because they were true.
My father had been trying to tell me.
But I wasn’t ready to listen.
Now I was.
And I knew what I had to do.
I needed to find out exactly what happened before my father died.
Because if my mother had been hiding the truth about that…
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Then the injuries Megan suffered were only one chapter of a much bigger story.
And I was finally ready to uncover it.
