Chapter 9: The Last Conversation With My Mother
The garage became a courtroom.
Not the kind with a judge.
Not the kind with lawyers.
A different kind.
The kind where everyone had a secret, and the person standing in the middle had to decide who was lying.
Me.
I looked at Linda.
The woman who had held my hand at my mother's funeral.
The woman who brought flowers every month afterward.
The woman who told me, "Your mother loved you more than anything."
Now she was standing there with tears in her eyes, admitting she knew something that could have changed my entire life.
"You knew?"
My voice was barely a whisper.
Linda nodded slowly.
"I knew."
The answer hurt more than a lie.
Because lies could be explained.
Secrets felt like choices.
"You knew who betrayed my mother."
Linda looked down.
"Yes."
"And you never told me?"
Her lips trembled.
"I wanted to."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
She looked at the floor.
"Because your mother made me promise."
The sentence almost made me laugh.
Almost.
Another promise.
Another secret.
Another person who decided they knew what was best for me.
"Of course."
I stepped back.
"Everyone promised my mother."
My eyes moved around the garage.
"Marcus promised."
"My father promised."
"You promised."
I looked at David.
"And somehow, I was the only person who didn't get a choice."
Nobody spoke.
Because nobody could argue with that.
Linda wiped her eyes.
"You're right."
The honesty surprised me.
"I was wrong."
She looked at me.
"But please understand something."
I said nothing.
"Your mother wasn't trying to hide the truth from you forever."
"Then what was she doing?"
"Trying to buy time."
"Time for what?"
Linda took a deep breath.
"Time for you to become strong enough to handle it."
I shook my head.
"I was eighteen."
Linda nodded.
"I know."
"Then why didn't anyone trust me?"
Her face broke.
"Because your mother knew you."
That answer made me angry.
"What does that mean?"
"It means she knew you would destroy yourself trying to fix everything."
Silence.
Because maybe that was true.
Maybe my mother knew me better than anyone.
I had always been the person who carried problems that weren't mine.
The person who said everything was okay even when it wasn't.
Linda continued.
"The night before your mother died, she called me."
Everyone became quiet.
Even David.
Because apparently this was the conversation everyone had been avoiding.
"The hospital room was dark."
Linda's voice became softer.
"Your mother was tired."
I closed my eyes.
I could almost see it.
The hospital bed.
The machines.
The smell of medicine.
The woman who raised me trying to pretend she wasn't scared.
"She asked me to sit beside her."
Linda looked at the floor.
"She knew she didn't have much time."
My throat tightened.
"What did she say?"
Linda hesitated.
Then answered.
"She said, 'I failed her.'"
My heart stopped.
"My mother said that?"
Linda nodded.
"She thought she failed you."
I looked away.
"No."
My voice cracked.
"No, she didn't."
"I know."
Linda wiped a tear.
"But she believed she did."
She continued.
"She said she spent her whole life protecting you from pain."
A pause.
"But she realized she had accidentally protected you from the truth."
Nobody moved.
"She said secrets don't disappear."
Linda looked at me.
"They just wait."
The words felt familiar.
Because they described my entire life.
A life built on things nobody wanted to talk about.
"What did she tell you?"
Linda looked toward David.
Then at Marcus.
Then my father.
Finally, me.
"She told me the person who betrayed her wasn't the person everyone thought."
My heart started racing.
"Who?"
Linda closed her eyes.
"She never said the name."
I frowned.
"What?"
"She said she had proof."
"Then why didn't she tell you?"
"Because she was afraid."
"Of David?"
Linda shook her head.
"No."
The answer froze me.
"Then who?"
Linda looked at the old motorcycle.
"The person who knew her entire plan."
My stomach dropped.
"Someone close."
Linda nodded.
"Someone who knew about the trust."
"Someone who knew about the documents."
"Someone who knew about the inheritance."
The garage went silent.
I slowly turned.
Everyone was here.
Marcus.
My father.
Linda.
Ray.
David.
The people my mother trusted.
The people she loved.
One of them had betrayed her.
And I still didn't know who.
Then David spoke.
"You see the problem now?"
Everyone looked at him.
He smiled slightly.
"Your mother created a game where everyone was a suspect."
Ray stepped forward.
"You're enjoying this."
David looked at him.
"No."
His expression changed.
"I'm remembering."
That answer was strange.
Almost sad.
I looked at him.
"Why did you come here?"
David looked at me.
"Because I wanted you to know something."
"What?"
"Your mother knew she was dying."
The room became still.
"She knew she couldn't finish exposing everyone."
He pointed toward the letter.
"That's why she created a trail."
I stared.
"A trail?"
"Yes."
"Leading where?"
David looked at the motorcycle.
Then at me.
"To the truth."
I didn't trust him.
Not for a second.
But something about his words bothered me.
Because everyone had said the same thing.
My mother left clues.
My mother planned this.
My mother wanted me to find the truth.
"What was the next clue?"
Nobody answered.
Then my father suddenly looked at the motorcycle.
"Wait."
Everyone turned.
"What?"
He walked closer.
"There was something else."
Marcus frowned.
"What?"
My father touched the side of the motorcycle.
"Your mother always kept a journal."
Linda nodded.
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
Nobody answered.
My father looked at David.
"You know."
David smiled.
"I wondered when you would remember."
My heart started pounding.
"Where is it?"
David didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the door.
"Ask Linda."
Everyone turned.
Linda froze.
My voice became cold.
"Linda."
She didn't move.
"Where is my mother's journal?"
A long silence.
Then she whispered:
"I have it."
The room exploded.
Marcus stared at her.
"What?"
Ray looked shocked.
"You had it this whole time?"
Linda nodded.
"I kept it safe."
"Safe?"
My voice rose.
"You hid it."
"I protected it."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You protected yourself."
Linda looked like I had slapped her.
"Emma..."
"Where is it?"
She closed her eyes.
Then reached into her bag.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She pulled out a small leather journal.
Old.
Worn.
The edges damaged.
My mother's handwriting was visible on the cover.
My hands started shaking.
"Why didn't you give me this?"
Linda looked at me.
"Because your mother left instructions."
"What instructions?"
Linda swallowed.
"She said I should only give it to you when you found the person who betrayed her."
I stared.
"Then why give it now?"
Linda's eyes moved around the room.
At Marcus.
At my father.
At David.
Then back to me.
"Because I think you just did."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Linda placed the journal on the workbench.
"Your mother didn't leave this for when you found the truth."
She looked at everyone.
"She left it for when the truth found you."
I picked up the journal.
The first page was dated.
One month before my mother's death.
The title written at the top made my blood run cold.
"The Person I Trusted Most."
I turned the page.
The first sentence was only six words.
Six words that changed everything.
"I know who betrayed me."
I stopped breathing.
Because underneath that sentence...
Was a name.
A name I never expected.
A name that made Marcus step back.
A name that made my father whisper:
"No..."
A name that made David smile.
Because he knew.
He had been waiting for this moment.
I looked down.
And read it.
The name written in my mother's handwriting was:
May you like
Marcus Reed.
The garage went silent.
