How much of it had been real?
Any of it?
Marcus drove in silence, occasionally glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“Mrs. Hayes,” he said finally. “Whatever you’re planning—”
“I’m not planning anything. I just need to understand.”
“Understanding doesn’t require driving through the night to confront the people who tried to kill you.”
“No,” I agreed. “But closure does.”
We arrived in Sedona just after dawn.
The address Katherine had sent led us to a small adobe house on the outskirts of town, tucked into the red rock hills. A rental car sat in the driveway.
Richard’s rental car.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“He’s here,” I breathed.
Marcus put a hand on my arm. “Let me call the local authorities—”
“No.” I was already opening the door. “Not yet.”
“Mrs. Hayes—”
“Five minutes. I need five minutes to hear why.”
I climbed out before he could stop me.
The morning air was cool and dry. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out. The house looked peaceful, ordinary.
I walked up the gravel path and knocked on the door.
For a long moment, nothing.
Then footsteps.
The door opened.
And my mother stood there, older than I remembered, her face carefully blank.
“Amelia,” she said quietly. “You’re alive.”
Not surprise. Not shock.
Just a flat statement of fact.
“You knew,” I whispered. “You knew what he was going to do.”
My mother’s expression didn’t change.
Behind her, Richard appeared in the hallway.
His face went white.
“Amelia—”
“Don’t.” My voice was steady. Calm. “Don’t say my name.”
He took a step forward. “How did you—the parachute—”
“Yes. The parachute. The GPS tracker. The recordings of every conversation you’ve had for the last two months. The FBI agents who are very interested in talking to you about embezzlement, attempted murder, and fraud.” I kept my eyes on my mother. “But what I really want to know is why she’s involved.”
My mother sighed and stepped back from the door. “You’d better come in.”
The living room was sparse. A couch. A table. Nothing personal.
A temporary place. A hiding place.
Richard stood near the window, his hands shaking.
My mother sat down on the couch and folded her hands in her lap.
“How much did he pay you?” I asked her.
“Ten million. Once you were dead and the estate settled.”
The casual way she said it made my stomach turn.
“You sold your daughter’s life for ten million dollars.”
“You paid me two million to disappear,” my mother replied evenly. “I’m just negotiating a better price.”
I stared at her. This woman who’d given birth to me. Who’d walked out when I needed her most.
“Why?” The word came out broken. “What did I ever do to you?”
Something flickered in her eyes. Not regret. Not love.
Just cold calculation.
“Your father poisoned you against me,” she said. “He gave you everything. Made you his perfect little heir. And when he died, you had the nerve to pay me off like I was nothing.” Her voice hardened. “You want to know why I helped Richard? Because you deserve this.”
The words hung in the air.
