The Truth Buried Beneath the Beeps
“Anna,” I whispered, my hands shaking. “Sweetheart, I’m listening. Tell me what happened.”
Her fingers twitched again — weaker, slower this time. I leaned in, straining to catch the faint rhythm.
The blood drained from my face.
Someone had tampered with her car.
The so-called accident wasn’t an accident at all.
The door creaked open. Mark stepped inside, his expression tired, his tone impatient. “Mom, we need to make a decision.”
I looked at him, heart racing. He had no idea what his former wife had just told me.
And I wasn’t about to tell him — not yet. Not until I knew who she was accusing.Continue reading…
