Chapter 4: The Call I Refused to Answer
My mother’s name continued flashing across my phone screen.
For years, that name had meant comfort.
It meant family.
It meant the woman who packed my lunches when I was a kid, stayed awake when I was sick, and told me I could accomplish anything.
But standing there in my apartment, looking at my pregnant wife’s terrified face, that name felt completely different.
It felt like a warning.
The phone kept ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I didn’t answer.
My mother finally stopped calling.
The silence afterward was heavier than the ringing itself.
Linda looked at me carefully.
"You need to understand something, Jake."
I looked at her.
"What?"
"Your mother is not going to admit what she did."
I knew she was right.
People who truly regretted hurting someone usually looked ashamed.
My mother had looked angry.
She wasn’t afraid because she had hurt Megan.
She was afraid because she had been caught.
Megan sat quietly on the bed, holding her stomach.
I walked over and sat beside her.
"I’m sorry you went through this alone."
She stared at her hands.
"I wasn’t completely alone."
I looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
She touched her belly gently.
"I had our baby."
My chest tightened.
She had been scared, hurt, and isolated, but she still found strength every day to protect our child.
And I had been standing on the wrong side.
"I should have protected you."
Megan looked at me.
"Jake, I didn’t need you to fight everyone."
Her voice cracked.
"I just needed you to believe me."
Those words stayed with me.
Because she wasn’t asking for perfection.
She was asking for trust.
Something I should have given her without hesitation.
Linda placed the folder on the table.
"There is more evidence."
I looked at her.
"More?"
She nodded.
"Your mother contacted several people."
"Who?"
"Family members. Friends. Even your neighbors."
My stomach dropped.
"What did she tell them?"
Linda looked uncomfortable.
"She told them Megan was having a difficult pregnancy and that she was becoming emotionally unstable."
I looked at Megan.
She closed her eyes.
"She wanted everyone to think I was the problem."
The anger inside me grew.
"But why would she do that?"
Linda was quiet for a moment.
Then she answered.
"Because she believes the baby belongs to the family."
The words sounded impossible.
"The family?"
Linda nodded.
"She kept saying that you were her son first. That Megan came later."
I felt sick.
My mother had always been protective.
But this wasn't protection.
This was possession.
A few hours later, after Linda left, I sat with Megan in the living room.
Neither of us spoke much.
There was too much to process.
Finally, Megan broke the silence.
"Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you going to do?"
I looked at her.
The woman who had loved me through everything.
The woman who carried my child.
The woman who had been afraid to tell me the truth because she didn’t know if I would stand beside her.
"I’m going to find out everything."
She looked worried.
"Jake..."
"No."
I held her hand.
"I spent weeks believing a lie. I owe it to you and our baby to uncover every piece of the truth."
That evening, I searched through my phone.
I found every message from my mother.
Every call.
Every moment she had tried to influence me.
And then I noticed something strange.
A message she sent three days before Megan stopped walking around the apartment.
It said:
"Sometimes people need to learn their place."
I stared at the screen.
My hands went cold.
Because suddenly I remembered that day.
The day Megan came home from a walk with my mother.
The day she stopped laughing.
The day she started hiding under the blue blanket.
I looked at Megan.
"Meg."
She turned toward me.
"That day your mother took you outside..."
Her expression changed.
"What happened?"
She didn’t answer immediately.
And that scared me more than anything.
Finally, she whispered:
"Jake... that was the first time she hurt me."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Megan looked down.
"I didn't tell you because she threatened me."
My voice became quiet.
"What did she threaten you with?"
A tear rolled down her face.
"She said if I told you, she would make sure you never believed me again."
I grabbed her hand.
"She was right."
Megan looked at me.
And I felt the weight of my mistake.
Because the most painful part wasn't just what my mother had done.
It was knowing Megan had predicted exactly what would happen.
I had become the person she was afraid of losing.
The next morning, I made a decision.
I drove to my mother's house.
Not to argue.
Not to yell.
Not to ask questions.
I went there because I needed to see her face when I asked one thing.
And I needed to know whether my own mother was capable of telling the truth.
When she opened the door, she smiled.
Like nothing had happened.
"Jake. I knew you would come back."
I stared at her.
May you like
Then I said:
"Mom, why did you hurt my wife?"
