The Mistake

Chapter 9: The Shadows of Truth

With a deep sigh, she finally broke her silence.

“I’m sorry, Emma. I’ve been keeping things from you.”

“But let me be clear—Lily’s death was truly an accident. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

Her words struck me, but I stayed silent, my trust in her already shattered. Ava continued, her voice low but steady.

“During Jason’s interrogation, he confessed. He and Lily had been posing as a couple for years. When they came to you, it wasn’t about love—it was about draining your finances, taking everything you had.”

I looked at her with cold, skeptical eyes. “And what about *you*, Ava? What have you been hiding from me? Why did you keep this from me?”

For a moment, Ava seemed lost in thought, debating whether to speak. Then, as if deciding there was no point in holding back anymore, she finally revealed everything.

“The plan was built around Oliver Hayes,” she admitted.

“A week ago, we noticed he had his eye on you.”

“We also knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was protecting you. So we stayed back, waiting to see what he’d do.”

Her words stirred unease in me, but I stayed silent, listening intently.

“Then, you accidentally killed Lily,” Ava continued. “That forced Oliver to come out of hiding.”

“We decided to use that opportunity. The plan was to slowly reveal Oliver’s true identity to you, help you see through him, and use you to lure him into a trap.”

“But the plan failed. Oliver is too clever. He saw through our tactics, manipulated the gaps in our strategy, and escaped again.”

Ava’s explanation made sense—most of it, at least. But one question still haunted me.

“Wait a minute,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “How do you even know his name is Oliver Hayes?”

Ava hesitated, her calm demeanor cracking just slightly.

“Because Daniel Hayes is dead. And the dead don’t come back to life.”

“Then why are you chasing Oliver if you already know he’s not Daniel?” I pressed, watching her closely.

Her pause was longer this time, and I noticed the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Because,” she said quietly, “Daniel died taking the blame for Oliver. The *real* monster has always been Oliver.”

I stared at her, stunned. Ava took a deep breath before continuing.

“After Daniel’s death, Oliver vanished for three months. Now he’s reappeared, and it’s not just to fulfill his brother’s dying wish. We believe he’s here for revenge. And if that’s true, someone else will die.”

Her words sent chills down my spine.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you everything,” Ava admitted. “I needed to keep you calm and unaware.”

I clenched my fists, my voice shaking. “What else are you hiding from me, Ava?”

Her next words froze me in place.

“Emma… the person who reported Daniel’s location—the one who led to his capture—was your mother. Janet Johnson.”

The car ride to my hometown was a blur. My mind spiraled in a chaotic mess of fear and dread. I couldn’t think straight. I felt like I was losing my grip on reality.

“We’ve already sent officers to your mother’s house,” Ava reassured me, but her words did little to calm me.

My mother. The one person in this world who had given me everything.

After my dad passed away, she stayed alone in the countryside, in that old, crumbling house, so Dad could “find his way back home.” She worked herself to the bone to raise me, even selling her blood so I could stay in school.

She’s been through enough. She’s *suffered* enough. If something happens to her because of this... I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself.

As the car sped through the narrow village roads, I sat there like a madwoman, murmuring prayers under my breath. I just needed to get there before Oliver did.

When we finally arrived, I didn’t wait for the car to stop. I jumped out and sprinted toward the house, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst.

Bursting through the door, I froze.

In the corner of the room stood a handful of plainclothes officers, their eyes on me. At the kitchen table, my mother sat, wiping the sweat off her face after cooking a meal. A table full of food was laid out, her way of welcoming me home.

She turned when she saw me and smiled, her frail frame bending slightly as I threw myself into her arms.

Tears poured down my face as I clung to her tightly, my heart breaking in her embrace.

She patted my back gently. “What’s wrong, Emma? Why are you crying?”

I couldn’t speak. My voice was trapped in my throat. All I could do was hold her tighter, grateful beyond words that I had made it in time.