My Family Blamed Me for Missing My Mother’s Final Moments—Then the Hospital Released One Phone Recording
# My Family Blamed Me for Missing My Mother’s Final Moments—Then the Hospital Released One Phone Recording
## Chapter 1
“You let your own mother die because you were arguing over money!”
My sister’s hand connected with my cheek before I even saw it coming. The crack echoed off the granite columns of the funeral home, and I felt the sting spread across my face like fire.
“Megan, stop!” Liam grabbed her arm, but she was already pulling away, tears streaming down her face.
“Where were you, Erin? Where the hell were you when she needed us?”
I stood there, my cheek burning, my mother’s casket twenty feet behind me. The smell of lilies and rain-soaked pavement filled my nose. I could taste blood where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth.
I did not defend myself—because she was right about where I had been, but wrong about why.
Our father, Patrick, stood frozen by the door. His hands trembled at his sides, and his eyes were red and swollen. He hadn’t spoken since the priest finished the final prayer.
“I was at the hospital,” I said quietly. My voice didn’t sound like my own.
“At the hospital?” Megan laughed, but there was no humor in it. “She was already dead, Erin. She died alone because you couldn’t put down your calculator for five minutes.”
The rain started coming down harder. Water dripped from the awning and splashed against my shoes. I’d worn the black pumps Mom bought me for my college graduation. They were too tight now.
Liam put his arm around Megan’s shoulders. “Maybe we should go inside,” he said. His voice was smooth, practiced. The voice of a man who’d spent years learning how to sound reasonable. “This isn’t the place.”
“No,” Megan pulled away. “I want to know. I want everyone to know what she did.”
A group of our aunts had gathered near the door. I could see them whispering, their eyes darting between me and Megan. Aunt Kathy clutched her rosary beads so hard her knuckles went white.
“Mom called me at two in the morning,” I said. “She was worried about something.”
“Worried about money,” Megan spat. “That’s all you ever talk about. Money, money, money. She was dying, Erin. She was dying and you were worried about bills.”
The thing is, she wasn’t wrong about that either. But she didn’t know what I’d found in Mom’s nightstand drawer. She didn’t know about the stack of hospital bills with numbers that didn’t make sense, or the letter from the bank about loans taken out against Dad’s house.
I’d spent that final night in the hospital’s billing office, trying to untangle a mess that Mom had begged me to fix.
“Someone forged Dad’s signature,” I said.
The words hung in the air. The rain kept falling. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blared.
“What are you talking about?” Patrick stepped forward. His voice cracked.
“Dad, I found—”
“Don’t you dare,” Megan cut me off. “Don’t you dare try to make this about something else. You weren’t there. You left her alone.”
I looked at my father. His face had gone pale beneath the gray stubble. I wanted to tell him everything right there. I wanted to show him the papers I’d found, the phone records I’d pulled, the call logs I’d been going through all night.
But Liam was watching me. His eyes were flat, unreadable. He had his arm around Megan, his hand rubbing small circles on her back.
“Dad, I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Not now,” Patrick shook his head. “Not today.”
“Please. It’s about the house.”
“The house?” Megan’s voice went shrill. “You’re talking about the house? At Mom’s funeral?”
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. The weight of their judgment pressed down like a physical thing. My cheek still throbbed from Megan’s slap.
“Mom asked me to look into some things,” I tried again. “Some bills that didn’t make sense.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Erin, I think we’ve all had enough drama for one day. Why don’t you just let your father grieve?”
There it was. That reasonable voice again. The voice that said *I’m the good guy here, I’m the one trying to keep the peace.*
Except I’d seen the phone records. I’d seen Mom’s final call history.
And I’d seen Liam’s number on it.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
Megan shook her head and walked toward the funeral home. “I can’t believe you,” she said over her shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re making this about money.”
“Mom made it about money,” I said quietly. “That’s what she was trying to tell me.”
But no one was listening anymore. They filed inside, one by one, leaving me standing alone in the rain.
The funeral home’s front door swung shut with a heavy click.
I touched my cheek. It was hot and swollen under my fingertips.
Tomorrow, I would go back to the hospital. I would get the records I needed, the proof I needed. I would find out exactly who had been stealing from my parents.
But tonight, I just stood there in the rain and watched my family bury my mother without me.
**End of Chapter 1**
## Chapter 2
The wake lasted three days.
Three days of cold cuts and store-bought cookies. Three days of relatives patting my shoulder and asking if I was okay. Three days of Megan shooting daggers at me from across the room.
I stopped trying to explain.
Instead, I watched. I watched Liam shake hands with every uncle and cousin. I watched him pour coffee for my aunts and tell stories about how wonderful Mom had been. I watched him hug my father with both arms and promise to take care of everything.
And every time I watched him, I remembered what I’d found in Mom’s nightstand.
The bills had been piling up for months. Medical expenses, they said. Charges from the hospital, from specialists, from labs I’d never heard of. But when I started cross-referencing them against Mom’s actual treatment records, nothing matched.
Mom had been receiving home hospice care for her final six weeks. She was barely strong enough to get out of bed. And yet someone had billed for three separate ER visits that never happened.
Someone had forged my father’s signature on loan documents.
Someone had taken sixty-three thousand dollars from my parents’ home equity.
Mom had figured it out two days before she died. She’d called me at two in the morning, her voice thin and weak, asking me to come to the hospital.
*”Erin,”* she’d said. *”Someone is stealing from your father. I don’t know who. But I need you to stop them.”*
She hadn’t told me who. Maybe she wasn’t sure. Maybe she couldn’t believe it.
But she’d left me a clue.
Her final phone records showed one outgoing call that hadn’t been to me, my father, or the hospice nurse.
She’d called Liam.
“You look like hell,” Megan said.
We were standing in the funeral home’s kitchen, paper plates stacked between us. She was wearing Mom’s pearl necklace. I’d never seen her wear it before.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just saying. You need to sleep.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy?” Megan laughed. “You’ve been hiding. That’s what you do. You hide behind your spreadsheets and your numbers and your I’ll-take-care-of-it attitude.”
I set down my coffee cup. “Megan, I need to tell you something. About the estate.”
“The estate.” She shook her head. “See? There it is. Mom’s been dead four days and you’re already worrying about money.”
“Mom asked me to look into some things. Before she passed.”
That got her attention. She set down the serving spoon she’d been holding. “What things?”
“Dad’s finances. The bills from the hospital. Someone—”
“Erin.”
We both turned. Patrick was standing in the kitchen doorway. His face looked like it had aged ten years in the past week.
“Dad, I was just telling Megan—”
“I need to talk to you.”
He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down heavily. The chair creaked under his weight. He pressed his palms flat against the wood and stared at his hands.
“I’ve made some decisions,” he said. “About the house. About the estate.”
Megan walked over and sat beside him. “What decisions?”
Patrick looked up at me. His eyes were watery, but there was something hard in them too. Something I’d never seen before.
“I’m leaving the house to Megan and Liam,” he said.
The words hit me like a physical blow. The blood drained from my face.
“Dad, you can’t.”
“I can. It’s my house.”
“You don’t understand. There are loans. Someone took out loans against the property. I found the paperwork—”
“I know about the loans.”
I stared at him. “You know?”
Patrick nodded slowly. “Liam told me. He said you were trying to get control of the estate. He said you’d been pressuring Mom to change her will.”
“That’s a lie,” I said. “That’s not what happened.”
“Dad, Liam told us she was doing this,” Megan cut in. “He said she was trying to talk Mom into giving her power of attorney.”
“Because Mom asked me to!” My voice cracked. “She called me. She was scared. She said someone was stealing from you, Dad. Someone forged your signature.”
“Liam told me you’d say that.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. “What?”
“Liam said you might try to blame him. He said you’d been acting strange, talking about conspiracies. He said you were stressed, that maybe you needed help.”
Megan nodded. “Mom always said you worked too hard. She worried about you.”
I looked between them. My father and my sister. The two people I’d spent forty-six years trying to protect.
The room felt small. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Somewhere in the other room, I could hear my aunt telling a story about the time Mom accidentally set the kitchen on fire.
My mother had been cremated forty-eight hours ago. Her ashes were in an urn in the front room.
And my brother-in-law had already taken everything.
“Dad, listen to me,” I said slowly. “I can prove it. I have the phone records. I have the hospital billing statements. I have copies of the loan documents.”
“I don’t want to see them.”
“Please. Just look at them. I’m not trying to take anything. I just want to protect you. Someone is stealing from this family.”
Patrick stood up abruptly. The chair scraped against the linoleum.
“The will is being read tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve already made my decision. You’ll get nothing.”
“Dad, please—”
“Nothing, Erin.”
He walked out of the kitchen without looking back.
Megan followed him, but she paused at the door. She turned and looked at me with those eyes that used to look at me like I was her hero.
“You let her die alone,” she said. “And now you’re trying to take everything too.”
The door swung shut.
I stood there in the empty kitchen, surrounded by half-empty coffee cups and crumpled napkins.
The fluorescent light flickered. Once. Twice.
Tomorrow, I would go to the hospital.
I would get the recording.
And I would find out exactly what my mother said to Liam in that final phone call.
—
**End of Chapter 2**
## Chapter 3
The hospital lobby smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee.
I’d been here a hundred times in the past three months. Every visit, I sat in the same plastic chair near the vending machines, waiting for Mom’s chemo sessions to end. I’d memorized the pattern of stains on the carpet and the way the elevator chimed twice before the doors opened.
Today, I wasn’t here for Mom.
I was here for Thomas Reed.
The hospital billing supervisor’s office was on the third floor, through a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” I’d been in this office twice before. Both times, I’d come armed with spreadsheets and questions.
Both times, Thomas had given me the same answer.
*”There’s nothing I can do.”*
This time, I came armed with something else.
The hospital’s phone system recorded every call. It was standard procedure, Thomas had told me. For quality assurance. For patient safety.
For evidence.
“Ms. Callahan,” Thomas said, looking up from his desk. He was a small man with wire-rimmed glasses and a tie that was too short for his neck. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
“I need the recording.”
He blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“The phone recording. From March 28th. My mother’s room.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair. It squeaked. “Ms. Callahan, I’ve told you before. I can’t discuss patient billing without—”
“This isn’t about billing.”
“Then what is it about?”
I pulled out the folder I’d been carrying. Inside were copies of the loan documents, the hospital statements, the phone records. I spread them across his desk like a poker hand.
“Someone forged my father’s signature,” I said. “They took sixty-three thousand dollars from his house. They disguised it as medical expenses that never happened.”
Thomas picked up one of the documents. His eyes scanned it slowly.
“That’s impossible,” he said. “We don’t send statements like this.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
He flipped through the rest of the papers. His face went pale.
“These charges,” he said slowly. “These aren’t ours.”
“I know.”
“The account numbers. The invoice codes. This isn’t our billing system.”
“I know.”
Thomas set down the papers and looked at me. “Ms. Callahan, where did you get these?”
“My mother’s nightstand. She found them and put them there. She was trying to figure out what was going on.”
“Who else knew about this?”
I thought about Liam. I thought about his smooth voice and his reasonable smile. I thought about the way he’d hugged my father and promised to take care of everything.
“My brother-in-law,” I said. “My mother called him two days before she died. She had a phone conversation with him, and I think she confronted him about these bills.”
Thomas leaned forward. “How do you know?”
“I found the call log. It was the last call she made.”
He was quiet for a long moment. The fluorescent light hummed. Outside the office, I could hear the distant beep of hospital monitors.
“Phone records are protected,” he said finally. “I can’t just—”
“My mother died alone,” I said. “She was scared. She asked me to protect my father. And someone took advantage of her. Someone took advantage of my family.”
Thomas looked at me. His eyes were tired.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
He left the office and walked down the hallway. I sat in his chair and stared at the papers on his desk. The loan documents. The forged signatures. The medical bills from a hospital that had never treated my mother.
I thought about Mom lying in her hospital bed, too weak to sit up, trying to figure out who was stealing from her husband.
I thought about her calling Liam, her voice probably barely a whisper.
I thought about what she must have heard on the other end of that line.
Thomas came back. He was holding a CD.
“This is the recording you requested,” he said. “It’s from March 28th, 4:47 PM. It’s the last call your mother made from this hospital.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m doing this because your mother was a patient here,” he said. “I’m doing this because someone lied to her. But I need you to understand—I’m not supposed to give you this.”
“I understand.”
He handed me the CD. It was warm from his hand.
“What are you going to do with it?” he asked.
I looked at the CD. It was small and unassuming. A plastic disc that would shatter if you stepped on it.
Inside, there was the sound of my mother’s voice.
“I’m going to find out who hurt my family,” I said. “And I’m going to stop them.”
Thomas nodded slowly. “Be careful, Ms. Callahan. Sometimes the truth does more damage than the lie.”
He didn’t know the half of it.
I left the hospital and walked to my car. The parking lot was full. Cars everywhere. People coming and going. People with their own problems, their own secrets.
I sat in my car for a long time. The CD sat on the passenger seat.
I didn’t play it.
Not yet.
Instead, I drove to the house I’d grown up in.
The house was quiet when I got there. My father’s truck was in the driveway, but there was no sign of Megan or Liam. The kitchen light was on. I could see my father’s silhouette moving around inside.
I knocked on the back door.
He opened it slowly. His face looked older in the yellow light.
“Erin,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to show you something.”
“I told you. I don’t want to see any papers.”
“This isn’t papers.”
I held up the CD.
“This is a recording,” I said. “Mom made a phone call from the hospital. Two days before she died. She called someone.”
Patrick stepped back from the door. “Who?”
“Just listen to it,” I said. “Please.”
He looked at the CD. His hands were shaking.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “What are you trying to prove?”
“I’m trying to prove the truth.”
Patrick sighed. He opened the door wider.
“Fine,” he said. “Come inside.”
I followed him into the kitchen. The house looked the same as always. The same dishes in the same cabinet. The same magnets on the same refrigerator. Mom’s apron still hung on the hook by the stove.
Patrick sat down at the kitchen table. He looked so small, so tired.
I inserted the CD into my laptop.
The file started playing.
And then I heard my mother’s voice.
—
**End of Chapter 3**
## Chapter 4
*”Liam, it’s Margaret.”*
My mother’s voice was thin and weak. She’d been in the hospital for two weeks by then. The cancer had spread to her lungs, and every breath was a struggle.
*”I found the papers,”* she said. *”The bills from the hospital. They don’t match.”*
There was a pause. I could hear the static of the recording. The hum of the hospital equipment.
Then Liam’s voice:
*”Margaret, you need to rest. Don’t worry about the bills.”*
*”I know you forged Patrick’s signature, Liam. I know you took the money.”*
The room went cold.
Patrick’s face had gone pale. He stared at the laptop screen like it was a snake.
*”Margaret, listen to me,”* Liam said. His voice was calm. Reasonable. *”You’re confused. The medication makes you confused.”*
*”I’m not confused. I went through every bill. I called the hospital. They’ve never heard of these charges. You took out loans against my house. You forged my husband’s name.”*
There was a long silence. I could hear my mother breathing. Each breath was wet, rattling.
*”Margaret,”* Liam said finally. *”You have no proof of that.”*
*”I have the papers.”*
*”Those papers don’t prove anything.”*
*”I called the bank, Liam. I talked to the loan officer. They have copies of the signatures. They have the application forms.”*
The recording crackled. I could hear my mother coughing. The sound was awful. Dry and hollow.
*”What do you want, Margaret?”* Liam asked. His voice had changed. It wasn’t calm anymore. It was cold.
*”I want you to leave my family alone.”*
*”That’s not going to happen.”*
*”I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell them everything.”*
*”You won’t do that.”*
*”Why not?”*
*”Because if you do,”* Liam said slowly, *”I’ll tell everyone about Erin.”*
I sat forward. My heart was pounding.
*”What?”* my mother said.
*”I’ll tell them she was stealing from you too. I’ll tell them she was part of it. I’ll make sure everyone believes you were confused. That you didn’t know what you were talking about.”*
My mother started coughing again. Harder this time.
*”Erin is not—”*
*”Erin is exactly what I need her to be,”* Liam cut her off. *”She’s the one who handles the money. She’s the one with access to the accounts. Everyone will believe me. They’ll think she did it all, and I just got caught in the middle.”*
*”You’re a monster.”*
*”I’m a survivor, Margaret. And you’re going to let this go. You’re going to rest. You’re going to focus on getting better. And you’re going to stop asking questions.”*
*”Or what?”*
*”Or I’ll make sure Erin goes to prison.”*
The recording went silent for a long moment. I could hear my mother crying. The soft, broken sound of a woman who knew she was dying and couldn’t protect her daughter.
*”What do you want?”* she asked finally. Her voice was barely a whisper.
*”I want you to call Erin,”* Liam said. *”Tell her you were confused. Tell her it was a mistake. Then call the bank and tell them the same thing.”*
*”And if I do?”*
*”Then I won’t do anything to Erin. Your husband keeps his house. Your daughter stays out of prison. Everyone wins.”*
*”And what about the money you stole?”*
*”I’ll pay it back.”*
There was another long silence. Then my mother said:
*”You’ll pay it back.”*
*”I promise.”*
The recording clicked off.
I sat there in the kitchen with my father, the CD player still spinning.
My mother had died two days after that call. She’d never told me what Liam said. She’d never told anyone.
She’d kept his secret to protect me.
Patrick was crying. Silent tears ran down his weathered cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.
“I never knew,” he said.
“He threatened to frame me,” I said. “He told Mom he would make everyone believe I was the one stealing from you. That I was part of it.”
Patrick shook his head. “He told me you were the one doing it. He said you were trying to take control of the estate. That you were pressuring your mother to change her will.”
“I know. Megan told me.”
“She believed him.”
“Everyone believed him.”
Patrick looked up at me. His eyes were red and swollen.
“Erin, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I told you I was leaving you nothing. I told you—”
“I know what you told me.”
I looked at the laptop. At the CD. At the sound of my mother’s voice that I would never hear again.
“She was trying to protect me,” I said. “That’s why she didn’t tell me. She knew if I confronted Liam, he’d destroy me.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“I know.”
I closed my laptop. The screen clicked shut.
“Dad, I need you to do something for me,” I said. “When we go to the will reading tomorrow, I need you to act like nothing has changed. Like you still believe Liam. Like you haven’t heard this recording.”
“Erin, I can’t pretend—”
“You have to. If Liam knows what we have, he’ll try to cover his tracks. He’ll destroy the evidence. He’ll find a way to make himself look innocent.”
Patrick nodded slowly. “And then?”
“Then I’ll let him think he’s won.”
I looked at my father.
“He took money from this family. He threatened my mother on her deathbed. He turned my sister against me. And he tried to destroy everything we’ve ever built.”
I stood up.
“Now it’s my turn.”
—
**End of Chapter 4**
## Chapter 5
The will reading was held at our family lawyer’s office.
It was the same building where Mom and Dad had signed their mortgage papers thirty years ago. The same building where I’d signed my own divorce papers five years ago. The same building where nothing good had ever happened.
I sat in the conference room with my father, Megan, and Liam. The lawyer, Mr. Connelly, was at the head of the table. He was an old man with thick glasses and a voice like gravel.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “Before we begin, I need to inform you that there’s been a development.”
Liam sat forward. “What kind of development?”
Mr. Connelly looked at Patrick. “Your father has decided to change his will.”
Megan’s head snapped toward me. “You did this,” she said. “You talked him into this.”
“I didn’t—”
“Erin didn’t do anything,” Patrick said. His voice was strong. Steady. “I made this decision myself.”
“I don’t understand,” Megan said. “Why would you change the will? You already told us you were leaving the house to us.”
“I told you what Liam told me to tell you.”
The room went silent.
Liam stared at Patrick. His face had gone pale.
“What are you talking about?” Liam asked. His voice was calm, but I could see the fear behind his eyes.
“Erin found the recording,” Patrick said. “The one your mother made from the hospital.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t,” Patrick said. “Don’t you dare lie to me again. I heard the recording. I know what you said to my wife. I know what you did to my family.”
Megan looked between them. “What recording? What is he talking about?”
Liam stood up. “This is ridiculous. Margaret was confused. The medication made her say things she didn’t mean.”
“She wasn’t confused,” Patrick said. “She was terrified. You threatened her. You threatened Erin. You told her you’d frame her daughter if she didn’t keep quiet.”
“That’s not true.”
“I heard the recording, Liam.”
Liam’s face went red. “You don’t have any recording. That’s not legal. You can’t use that.”
“I’m not using anything,” Patrick said. “I’m telling you what I know. And what I know is that you forged my signature. You stole sixty-three thousand dollars from my house. You let my wife die thinking she couldn’t protect her family.”
Megan was crying now. “Liam, what is he talking about?”
“Nothing,” Liam said. “He’s confused. They’re both confused.”
“Am I?”
Patrick pulled out a folder from his briefcase. He opened it and spread the documents across the table.
The loan applications. The forged signatures. The hospital statements.
“These are copies,” he said. “The originals are with the police. I filed a report this morning.”
Liam stared at the papers. His face had gone white.
“You called the police?”
“I did.”
Megan stood up. “Liam, tell me this isn’t true. Tell me he’s lying.”
Liam didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at the documents.
“You did it,” Megan said. Her voice was barely a whisper. “You took the money. You lied to me. You made me believe Erin was the one doing all of this.”
“Meg, I can explain—”
“You threatened my mother.”
“I didn’t threaten her. I was just trying to protect us. The gambling debts were getting out of control. I needed money. I was going to pay it back.”
“Pay it back?” I said. “Mom was dying. She was scared. And you used her fear to cover your own lies.”
Liam turned to me. His eyes were cold. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You think you saved everyone?”
“I think I saved my father’s house.”
“Maybe you did. But look around. Your sister hates you. Your father is broken. Your mother is dead. And you’re sitting here with your perfect little spreadsheets and your perfect little proof, and you think you won?”
I stood up. I was shaking, but I didn’t care.
“I didn’t win,” I said. “My mother died alone because she was trying to protect me. My sister hit me at her funeral because she believed your lies. And my father almost lost everything because you wanted to cover up your gambling.”
I walked around the table. I stopped in front of him.
“Nobody won,” I said. “Least of all you.”
Liam looked at me. His face was a mask of anger and fear.
“You can’t prove any of this,” he said.
“I already did.”
“I mean in court. You can’t prove I did anything. You have a recording of me talking to your mother. That’s not enough.”
“It might be,” I said. “But I don’t need to prove it in court. I just need everyone else to know the truth.”
I looked at Megan. She was crying. The pearls around her neck were stained with tears.
“You believed him,” I said. “You hit me at Mom’s funeral. You told me I let her die. And all along, he was the one who made her last days miserable.”
“Erin, I didn’t know—”
“I know you didn’t know. That’s the worst part. You didn’t even stop to ask. You just assumed.”
I picked up my bag. I was done.
“He’s going to prison,” Patrick said. “I’ve already spoken to the police. They’re on their way.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Liam said. He was sweating now. “You can’t prove any of this.”
“We don’t need to prove it,” Patrick said. “You’ve already confessed. We have it all on tape.”
Liam’s face went slack. “What are you talking about?”
Patrick held up his phone. The recording app was open.
“I’ve been recording everything since I walked in,” he said. “Every word you just said. Every admission. Every threat. It’s all right here.”
Liam lunged for the phone. I stepped in front of him.
“No,” I said. “You’re done.”
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
They handcuffed Liam and led him out of the office. Megan followed them, sobbing. She tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t look at her.
Patrick sat in the conference room, alone.
I stood by the window. It was getting dark. The streetlights were coming on.
“I saved my father’s house,” I said quietly. “But I’m no longer sure I want a place inside it.”
Patrick looked up at me. “Erin, I know I can’t undo the things that happened. I know I can’t take back what I said. But you’re still my daughter. You’ll always have a place.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can be in that house anymore. I don’t know if I can be around people who believed him over me.”
“You don’t have to decide right now.”
“I know.”
I picked up my bag. I could hear Megan crying in the hallway.
“Megan didn’t know what he was doing,” Patrick said. “She was grieving. She made a mistake.”
“She hit me at my mother’s funeral.”
“I know.”
“I spent my entire life trying to protect this family. And when I needed them most, no one believed me.”
“Erin—”
I walked to the door. I paused with my hand on the handle.
“Tell Megan I’ll call her,” I said. “When I’m ready.”
“And when will that be?”
I looked out the window. The street was empty. The city was quiet.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe never.”
I walked out of the office.
The air outside was cold. It smelled like rain.
I walked to my car and got in. I sat there for a long time, staring at the building where I’d just watched my brother-in-law get arrested and my sister fall apart.
My mother was dead. My father was broken. My sister had chosen a liar over me.
And all I could think about was the last thing my mother had said to me.
*”Erin, someone is stealing from your father. I need you to stop them.”*
I’d done what she asked. I’d saved the house. I’d exposed the truth.
But I’d lost everything else.
I started the car and drove home.
The end.
