Chapter 8: The Night My Mother Died
The words didn't make sense.
Not at first.
They entered my mind like a sentence written in a language I didn't understand.
*I saw your father leave your mother's hospital room the night she died.*
I stared at Gwendolyn.
Waiting for her to take it back.
Waiting for her to say she was confused.
Waiting for her to say the man on the phone had manipulated the situation.
But she didn't.
She simply stood there.
Looking older than I had ever seen her.
"Explain.""
My voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
Gwendolyn looked at Richard.
He looked away.
That was when I knew.
Everyone in that room had pieces of the truth.
Everyone except me.
"Explain," I repeated.
Gwendolyn sat down.
Her hands were shaking.
"I was at the hospital.""
"When?""
"The night your mother died.""
My chest tightened.
I remembered that night.
I was seventeen.
My father had called me from the hospital.
His voice had been broken.
He told me my mother was gone.
I remembered screaming.
I remembered collapsing.
I remembered the world becoming something I no longer recognized.
But I didn't remember Gwendolyn being there.
"I thought you weren't there.""
"I was.""
The answer came immediately.
"Why?""
She looked down.
"Because Samuel asked me to come.""
My eyes narrowed.
"My father asked you?""
She nodded.
"Yes.""
"Why?""
Gwendolyn swallowed.
"Because he needed help.""
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"My mother was dying, and he called you?""
"I know how it sounds.""
"No.""
I looked at her.
"You don't.""
The room became silent.
Gwendolyn accepted the anger in my voice.
Maybe because she deserved it.
"I was not his wife then," she said quietly.
I froze.
"What?""
She looked at me.
"We weren't together.""
A strange feeling moved through my body.
Confusion.
Shock.
Disbelief.
"Then why were you there?""
Gwendolyn took a breath.
"Because Samuel was falling apart.""
I shook my head.
"That doesn't explain anything.""
"No.""
She looked at the floor.
"It doesn't.""
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then she continued.
"Your mother knew about the financial problems.""
I already knew that.
"But she also knew something else.""
"What?""
Gwendolyn looked at me.
"Samuel was planning to sell the house.""
My stomach dropped.
"What?""
"He thought he had no other choice.""
"Why?""
"Because the business failed.""
I stared at her.
"The business he started with you?""
She nodded.
"Yes.""
The pieces started connecting.
The loans.
The missing money.
The documents.
My father's desperation.
But there was still something missing.
"Why would my mother leave the house to me if she knew he needed money?""
Gwendolyn looked at the envelope.
"Because she didn't trust what he would do.""
I looked away.
That hurt.
Because it meant my mother knew my father could make a choice that would hurt us.
Even before I did.
"What happened that night?""
Gwendolyn closed her eyes.
"I arrived around midnight.""
She looked like she was remembering every detail.
"Your mother was awake.""
My heart stopped.
"She was?""
"Yes.""
Nobody had ever told me that.
I always imagined my mother unconscious.
Drifting away peacefully.
But she had been awake.
She had been aware.
"She asked about you.""
My eyes burned.
"What did she say?""
Gwendolyn hesitated.
"She said she hoped you would forgive her.""
I looked down.
My mother's final thoughts were about me.
Not herself.
Me.
"Then what?""
"Your father came into the room.""
Gwendolyn's voice became quieter.
"They argued.""
My head lifted.
"They argued?""
"Yes.""
"About what?""
"The house.""
I felt my hands become cold.
"She knew he was trying to sell it?""
"Yes.""
"What did she say?""
Gwendolyn looked at me.
"She told him he had no right to take away your security.""
My eyes closed.
That sounded exactly like her.
Protective.
Strong.
Even when she was dying.
"And him?""
Gwendolyn looked away.
"He said he was trying to save the family.""
I almost whispered:
"Of course he did.""
The same excuse.
The same words.
Always saving.
Always protecting.
Always making decisions without asking anyone.
"What happened after that?""
Gwendolyn's face changed.
Fear returned.
"Your mother asked him to leave.""
My breath caught.
"She asked my father to leave?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because she said she couldn't trust him.""
The words hurt.
Because they came from my mother.
Not from me.
"What happened next?""
Gwendolyn looked at the table.
"I left the room for a few minutes.""
"Why?""
"Because I was angry.""
"At him?""
She nodded.
"When I came back...""
She stopped.
I waited.
"When I came back, Samuel was standing beside the bed.""
My heartbeat increased.
"And?""
"He was holding something.""
"What?""
Gwendolyn's eyes met mine.
"The estate documents.""
I froze.
"Why?""
"I don't know.""
The room went completely silent.
"Then what happened?""
Gwendolyn swallowed.
"Your mother looked at him and said something.""
"What?""
She looked at me.
"She said, 'If Emma ever has to choose between loving you and protecting herself, I hope she chooses herself.''"
My vision blurred.
I looked away.
Because hearing my mother's words felt like hearing a goodbye she had never been able to give me.
"What did my father do?""
Gwendolyn shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Then why did you say you saw him leave?""
"Because he did.""
"When?""
"About twenty minutes later.""
"Before she died?""
Gwendolyn nodded.
"Yes.""
I stared at her.
"Did you see my mother after he left?""
Her silence answered before she did.
"No.""
My heart sank.
"Why?""
"Because the nurse came in.""
"Then?""
"The nurse told me your mother had stopped responding.""
I couldn't speak.
For years, I had imagined my mother's final moments.
Now I had new images.
My father leaving.
My mother alone.
Secrets.
Documents.
A family breaking apart before I even knew it was happening.
Then Richard finally spoke.
"There is more.""
I looked at him.
"Of course there is.""
He looked uncomfortable.
"Your father recently requested copies of the hospital records.""
"Why?""
"We don't know.""
"When?""
"Two days ago.""
The same day I left.
The same day everything started.
I looked at Gwendolyn.
"Who called me?""
She didn't answer.
"Who was that man?""
Her face changed.
And I knew she recognized more than just his voice.
"You know.""
She looked terrified.
"Emma...""
"Who?""
She whispered:
"His name is Victor.""
The name meant nothing to me.
But the way she said it did.
"Who is Victor?""
Gwendolyn looked at Richard.
Richard shook his head slightly.
But she continued.
"Victor was your father's business partner.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"The person my mother was investigating.""
Gwendolyn nodded.
"Yes.""
The room suddenly felt connected.
The business.
The money.
The loans.
The documents.
The missing truth.
"Why would he call me?""
Nobody answered.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
From Victor.
I opened it.
Only one sentence.
*Your mother died believing Samuel betrayed her.*
My hands shook.
Another message appeared.
*But she never learned the worst part.*
I stared at the screen.
Then the final message arrived.
*Your father wasn't alone that night.*
I looked up.
Slowly.
Gwendolyn was already crying.
"Who was with him?""
My voice barely came out.
She looked at me.
And for the first time, she stopped hiding.
"Emma...""
A tear fell down her face.
"I was.""
The room disappeared.
Everything went silent.
My father's secrets.
My mother's fears.
The lies.
The documents.
All of it suddenly led back to one impossible truth.
Gwendolyn had been there.
The night my mother died.
And she had spent nine years letting me believe she was just the woman who took my room.
I stepped back.
"Why?""
She covered her mouth.
"Because your mother asked me to stay.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
Gwendolyn looked at the envelope on the table.
"Because before she died, your mother told me something.""
My breathing stopped.
"What did she tell you?""
Gwendolyn looked directly into my eyes.
"She said if Samuel ever betrayed you...""
A pause.
"She wanted me to protect you.""
I couldn't move.
The woman I hated.
The woman I blamed.
The woman who had made me feel unwanted.
Had been carrying a promise from my mother all these years.
Then Gwendolyn said the one thing I never expected.
"But I failed her.""
Before I could ask why, there was a loud crash outside.
We all turned toward the window.
A car door slammed.
Someone was walking toward my house.
Richard moved toward the curtain.
Then stopped.
His face changed.
"That's impossible.""
I looked at him.
"Who is it?""
He didn't answer.
He just stared outside.
Then whispered:
"Your father.""
My heart stopped.
Because Samuel Carter was standing outside my new home.
And he wasn't alone.
He had brought someone with him.
May you like
Someone carrying a box of old documents.
A box labeled with my mother's name.
