Chapter 4: The Person Who Knew Everything
The signature belonged to someone I trusted.
Someone who had been inside my house.
Someone who had looked me in the eyes and lied.
My brother.
Ethan.
For years, Ethan had been my closest friend.
He helped me after Simone died.
He was the person who told me I needed to move forward.
He was the person who introduced me to Yolanda.
I stared at the receipt until the words blurred.
Why would Ethan have Simone’s bracelet?
I drove to his house without calling.
When he opened the door, he immediately knew something was wrong.
“Dominic?””
I held up the receipt.
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“What is this?””
He looked away.
“Where did you get that?””
“That’s your first question?””
Silence.
I stepped inside.
“You sold my dead wife’s bracelet?””
Ethan closed the door.
“Lower your voice.””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“No, I spent two years being quiet.””
He rubbed his face.
“Dominic, you don’t understand.””
“Then explain.””
He sat down.
And for the first time in my life, my brother looked afraid of me.
“Yolanda asked me to help.””
“Help with what?””
He didn’t answer.
“Ethan.””
“She was struggling.””
I laughed once.
“Struggling?””
I leaned forward.
“My daughter was struggling.””
He looked down.
“She said Nia was becoming obsessed with Simone.””
I felt anger rising.
“So you stole the one thing her mother left her?””
“No.””
“Then what happened?””
Ethan swallowed.
“She gave it to me.””
I froze.
“What?””
“She told me Nia gave it away.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
Because that was impossible.
Nia would never give away that bracelet.
Not willingly.
I stood.
“Did you ask her?””
Ethan didn’t answer.
I already knew.
“You never asked her.””
He looked ashamed.
“No.””
I left.
That evening, I sat across from Nia.
I showed her the receipt.
Her face went pale.
“Mom said she lost it.””
“She lied.””
Nia’s eyes filled.
“I knew it.””
The words came out softly.
“You knew?””
She nodded.
“I saw her put it in her purse.””
I clenched my hands.
“When?””
“Months ago.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
She looked at me.
And there it was again.
The answer I hated.
“Because nobody believed me before.””
I had no response.
Because she was right.
I had created a world where telling me the truth felt harder than surviving the lie.
That night, I confronted Yolanda.
She was in the bedroom folding laundry.
She looked calm.
Too calm.
“Where is Simone’s bracelet?””
Her hands stopped.
“What?””
“You heard me.””
She slowly turned.
“Dominic…”
“Where is it?””
She stared at me.
Then smiled.
Not a kind smile.
A tired one.
“You finally started asking questions.””
My stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?””
She folded the shirt in her hands.
“It means you’re finally paying attention.””
“Answer me.””
She walked closer.
“You want the truth?””
“Yes.””
She looked directly into my eyes.
“Nia isn’t the only thing you’ve been wrong about.””
I didn’t move.
“What are you talking about?””
She reached into the drawer beside the bed.
She pulled out an envelope.
Then placed it on the dresser.
“I was going to tell you eventually.””
My fingers touched the envelope.
“What is this?””
Her voice became quiet.
“Something you should have found out two years ago.””
I opened it.
Inside was a document.
A hospital record.
My hands started shaking.
Because the name on the paper wasn’t Nia.
May you like
It was mine.
And the date was the week after Simone died.
