Chapter 6 - Rebecca’s Second Life
We found Rebecca’s abandoned car three blocks away.
On the passenger seat was a note.
DON’T FOLLOW ME IF YOU WANT CLAIRE TO LIVE.
I read it twice.
Dad read it once.
Then tore it in half.
“I’m following her.”
For the first time that day, I grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“If everything happening is supposedly about protecting me, then maybe somebody should finally ask what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
We returned to Dad’s shop.
Derek was taken back into custody, this time under federal protection.
He asked to speak with me alone.
I agreed because I wanted answers, not reconciliation.
He admitted everything.
The first payment.
The lies.
The gambling.
Samuel’s questions.
And the violence.
He did not minimize it this time.
“I kept telling myself I wasn’t like him.”
“You didn’t even know he was your father.”
“No. I mean my adoptive father.”
That surprised me.
The man who raised Derek had been violent too.
Sharon had hidden that from everyone.
Cycles within cycles.
Still, Derek’s childhood explained him.
It did not absolve him.
“You had choices,” I said.
“I know.”
“I’m going to divorce you.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“And I’m going to testify.”
A longer pause.
“I know.”
That was the first honest conversation of our marriage.
Rebecca contacted us that evening.
She had taken the albums because she did not trust the federal agents.
One of the names on Mom’s hidden pages belonged to the supervising agent assigned to the case.
She had been right.
The intercepted transport was staged.
Rebecca had removed the albums first.
The missing agent was alive and helping her.
She gave us a location.
An old motel north of Dallas.
Dad, Marcus, Mom, and I went with a trusted federal team from outside Texas.
Rebecca was waiting.
So were the albums.
Inside one was the missing page.
Samuel’s network was larger than anyone knew.
But one name had been circled recently.
Sharon Lawson.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Rebecca looked at Mom.
“Ask Ellen.”
Mom’s silence told me I was about to hate the answer.
Sharon had not merely worked for Samuel.
She had helped build the financial system he used.
She later turned against him, yes.
But before that, people had lost homes, businesses, and lives because of accounts she created.
Samuel had spent decades keeping evidence of her involvement.
If it became public, Sharon could face prosecution.
That was how he controlled her.
And through her, Derek.
Dad rubbed his face.
“This whole family has been living inside one man’s blackmail file.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
“We’ve been living inside our own secrets.”
That night, Sharon agreed to cooperate fully.
No immunity promises.
No conditions.
She would testify.
She apologized to me.
Not for Derek.
For herself.
“I saw the bruise yesterday,” she said.
“I know.”
“I should have called someone.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
That was all I could give her.
It was enough.
Near midnight, I finally returned to my parents’ house.
My birthday was almost over.
Dad opened the refrigerator.
Inside was a small grocery-store cupcake.
Mom had bought it during the chaos.
One candle.
Dad lit it.
“I know this isn’t much.”
I stared at the flame.
Then I started crying.
Not because of Derek.
Not Samuel.
Not the secrets.
Because my father remembered I still deserved a birthday.
I blew out the candle.
For ten seconds, everything was quiet.
Then Dad’s security camera alert sounded.
Someone stood outside.
A man in his seventies.
Gray coat.
Silver hair.
Samuel Ross.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then he raised one hand.
May you like
He was holding my father’s missing watch.
And the front door unlocked from the outside.
