“For making Mommy die.”
The room seemed to lose all sound.
Eleven months earlier, Elizabeth had been driving home from a charity meeting when her car was struck by a truck that crossed the center line.
She had stopped briefly at their family home before leaving because Oliver had asked her to bring his favorite stuffed bear to the hospital, where he was recovering from a severe asthma attack.
The accident had happened afterward.
Alexander knew every detail because he had spent months blaming himself for not driving her that evening.
But he had never imagined Oliver blamed himself.
And he certainly had never imagined someone had encouraged that belief.
“Who told you that?” Alexander whispered.
Oliver lowered his eyes.
“Aunt Caroline.”
Alexander felt a cold weight settle inside his chest.
Caroline Mercer was Elizabeth’s older sister.
After Elizabeth’s death, she had offered to help care for Oliver.
Alexander had been grateful.
Caroline managed Elizabeth’s charitable foundation, arranged tutors, organized the household staff, and repeatedly assured Alexander that Oliver needed time away from difficult conversations.
She had even suggested that Oliver was becoming emotionally unstable and should be placed in a specialized boarding school.
Alexander had refused.
But he had accepted almost everything else.
Now he looked at the small boy standing before him and realized how little he truly knew about his son’s life.
Hannah carefully placed the milk on the table.
“Oliver,” she said, “may I tell you something important?”
The boy nodded.
“Children are never responsible for accidents like that. Your mommy went to get your bear because she loved you. What happened on the road was not because of anything you did.”
Oliver searched her face.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But Aunt Caroline said—”
“Oliver.”
Alexander’s voice broke.
