Chapter 8
1068 Words
The Lie That Shook the House
“Everything you think you know… might be about to change.”
The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy and threatening. Jackson could hear the faint ticking of the wall clock behind him, each second stretching longer than the last. His eyes remained fixed on the woman standing at the door, searching her face, trying desperately to place her.
She looked confident, almost too confident, like someone who had rehearsed this moment.
Then she smiled.
“I’m Nurse Judy… from Blackheath Private Hospital.”
Recognition hit him slowly. The corridors. The white uniform. The brief conversations when Summer had been admitted. Yes, he had seen her before.
“Oh,” Jackson breathed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought as much. So… how can I help you?”
But Judy did not answer immediately. Instead, her eyes drifted past him toward the living room where his family sat. His father. His mother. His sister. Michael. Every one of them watching.
“My reason for coming,” she said calmly, “must be said in front of your family.”
A murmur moved across the room.
Jackson hesitated. Something about her tone made his chest tighten. Still, refusing would only make him look guilty of something he didn’t even understand.
“Fine,” he replied. “Say whatever you came to say.”
Judy stepped inside.
The sound of her heels against the floor echoed too loudly. She stopped at the center of the room, folded her hands in front of her, and took a deep breath as if preparing to drop a bomb.
“I didn’t want it to come this way,” she began, lowering her eyes briefly before looking straight at Jackson. “But I have no choice anymore.”
Jackson frowned. No choice for what?
Judy lifted her chin.
“I’m pregnant.”
The world stopped.
No one moved. No one blinked.
Jackson felt as if the ground beneath him had opened. “What?” he whispered.
Judy’s voice became firmer. “I’m carrying your child, Jackson.”
His child.
The words slammed into him, over and over.
“That’s impossible,” he said immediately, shaking his head. “You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not,” she replied quickly. “You know what happened between us.”
“I don’t!” Jackson snapped, louder now. “Nothing happened between us!”
His sister gasped softly. Michael stood up from his seat. Their father’s face hardened, disappointment already forming like stone.
But it was his mother who moved first.
She stepped forward slowly, her expression filled with pain and confusion. “Jackson,” she said, her voice trembling, “tell me the truth. Is she lying?”
Jackson opened his mouth.
But no words came out.
Because how could he defend himself against something so terrible, so sudden, so perfectly spoken? He searched his memory again and again, but there was nothing. No late-night meeting. No secret encounter. Nothing except hospital hallways and polite greetings.
Yet the silence made everything worse.
Judy placed a hand on her stomach, tears suddenly appearing in her eyes as if summoned by magic. “I wouldn’t come here to disgrace myself,” she said. “I tried to reach you privately. You ignored me. I had to come.”
“That’s not true,” Jackson protested, his voice cracking. “You never—”
“Enough!” his father barked.
The room trembled under the weight of authority.
“Are you telling us,” his father continued, “that this woman is inventing a pregnancy?”
“Yes!” Jackson shouted. “Because she is!”
Judy let out a soft, wounded cry, turning her face away like someone betrayed. “I can’t believe you’d deny your own blood.”
Jackson ran a hand through his hair, panic building inside him. Summer. If she heard this—
God.
What would she think?
His mother’s eyes were glossy with tears now. “Jackson… you’ve been with that girl, promising her love, promising her a future. And now this?”
“I didn’t do it,” he whispered, almost helplessly. “Mom, please believe me.”
But doubt had already entered the room. It sat between them, poisonous and growing.
Michael moved closer to Jackson and spoke under his breath. “Do you know how bad this looks?”
Jackson did. He knew.
Judy sniffed, pretending to wipe her tears. Yet for a split second, her lips curved in something almost like victory before she hid it.
“I didn’t come to fight,” she said softly. “I just want my child to have a father.”
The statement sliced through the last bit of calm left.
Jackson felt trapped, like every exit had been locked.
His mother looked at him again, searching his face for honesty, for denial, for something solid she could hold onto.
“Jackson,” she asked once more, “is she telling the truth?”
He tried.
He truly tried to speak.
But the shock, the fear of losing Summer, the judgment in the room—it all tied his tongue.
And his silence sounded like guilt.
Jackson’s heart pounded as the murmurs filled the room. Before anyone could speak again, he grabbed Michael’s wrist.
“Outside. Now.”
He dragged his brother through the door, the night air hitting them both. Michael pulled back, confused. “Jackson, what is going on?”
Jackson ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. “The woman in there… she’s a nurse. She worked at the hospital when Summer was admitted. She took care of her sometimes, nothing more.”
Michael searched his face. “You swear?”
“With my life,” Jackson replied. “I never touched her. I love Summer. Why would I destroy that?”
“Then why would she lie?” Michael asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Jackson said, anger rising in his chest. “Maybe she wants money. Maybe she wants this family. Or maybe she just wants trouble.”
Michael exhaled slowly, seeing the fear in his brother’s eyes. “Then you must say it in there. Loud and clear.”
Jackson nodded.
Together they turned back toward the house, unaware that behind the door, Judy was already preparing her next move.
- Writer
