Emily
I didn’t sleep much that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I kept replaying the scene in my father’s study.
The way his hand slammed against the table.
The anger in his voice.
The way he completely shut down the conversation.
It wasn’t just refusal.
It had been… panic.
That was the only word that fit.
My father wasn’t someone who lost control easily. He was cold, calculated, someone who weighed every decision based on benefits and consequences.
Yet the moment I mentioned the possibility of my mother being framed, he had reacted like I had touched a live wire.
Which meant there was something there, something he didn’t want me digging into.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at my phone.
I exhaled slowly.
Then I pressed the call button.
The phone barely rang onc
