Skyla placed a thick envelope on the table, followed by a small velvet pouch and a folded piece of paper.
Her hands were trembling.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes, her lips were dry, and the oversized sweatshirt she wore looked like it hadn’t been washed in days.
But none of that frightened me as much as the words she whispered next.
“I couldn’t get all of it. I’m sorry.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The money, Ethan. For your treatment. I tried everything, but this is all I could manage.”
She pushed the envelope toward me.
I opened it.
Inside were several bundles of cash, a cashier’s check, and a handwritten list of amounts.
My heart began pounding.
“Skyla, where did you get this?”
She avoided my eyes.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It matters.”
She lowered herself onto the couch as though her legs could no longer support her.
“I sold my car.”
I blinked.
“Your car?”
She nodded.
“The transmission was going bad anyway. I found a mechanic who agreed to buy it for parts. He gave me twenty-eight hundred dollars.”
I looked at the envelope again.
There was far more than twenty-eight hundred dollars inside.
“And the rest?”
She swallowed.
“I sold my laptop, my camera, and the little gold necklace my grandmother left me.”
My throat tightened.
I remembered that necklace.
It was a tiny gold heart with her grandmother’s initials engraved on the back.
Skyla wore it every day.
Once, when I asked why she never took it off, she told me it was the only thing she had left from the woman who had raised her during the hardest years of her childhood.
“You sold your grandmother’s necklace?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know she’d understand.”
I couldn’t speak.
But Skyla wasn’t finished.
She opened the velvet pouch.
Inside was a simple silver ring.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the promise ring I’d given her on our first anniversary.
“I tried selling this too,” she whispered. “But the pawnshop wouldn’t give me much for it.”
She smiled weakly.
“So I kept it.”
Then she unfolded the paper.
It was a receipt from her college.
At the top, in bold letters, were three words that made my stomach twist.
REQUEST FOR WITHDRAWAL.
I stared at the document.
“Skyla… what is this?”
She looked down.
“I withdrew from school.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You WHAT?”
“Just for now,” she said quickly. “I can go back someday.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I got my tuition refund for the semester. Not all of it, but enough to help.”
I looked at the amount.
Then I looked at her.
Skyla had spent years working toward her nursing degree.
She’d told me countless times that she wanted to become a nurse because her mother had died when Skyla was fourteen, and she’d never forgotten the kindness of the nurses who cared for her.
That dream was everything to her.
And she’d just given it up.
For me.
For an illness I didn’t have.
For a treatment I didn’t need.
For a lie I’d invented because I was too insecure to trust the woman who loved me.
“Ethan?”
Her voice pulled me back.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
She reached for my hand.
“I know it’s not enough. The hospital said the treatment could cost much more. But I found something else.”
She pulled a business card from her pocket.
“A doctor in another state. I called his office. They said there might be a clinical trial, and if you qualify, some of the costs could be covered.”
She looked at me with desperate hope.
“Please, Ethan. We still have options.”
I felt something break inside my chest.
For five days, I’d been sitting in my beautiful house, surrounded by expensive furniture, convinced my girlfriend had abandoned me.
Meanwhile, she’d been selling everything she owned.
And I had accused her of loving me for my money.
I dropped to my knees in front of her.
“Skyla…”
She immediately leaned forward.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need me to call someone?”
That question destroyed me.
Even now, after everything she’d sacrificed, her first concern was whether I was hurting.
I grabbed her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
She frowned.
“For what?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Ethan, you’re scaring me.”
Tears began streaming down my face.
I hadn’t cried like that since I was a child.
I couldn’t stop.
Skyla wrapped her arms around me.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “We’re going to fight this together.”
Every word made me feel worse.
Because there was nothing to fight.
Except the terrible thing I’d done.
I pulled away.
“Skyla, I need to tell you something.”
She brushed the tears from my cheeks.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I looked into her exhausted eyes.
And for the first time in my life, I was terrified of telling the truth.
“I’m not sick.”
She went completely still.
“What?”
“I’m not dying. There’s no treatment. There’s no hospital bill.”
Her hands slowly slipped out of mine.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she gave a nervous little laugh.
“Ethan, that’s not funny.”
“I know.”
“Stop it.”
“Skyla—”
“Stop saying that!”
She stood up so suddenly that the envelope fell from the table.
Cash scattered across the floor.
I reached toward her.
She stepped back.
“Are you telling me…” Her voice cracked. “Are you telling me that you made all of this up?”
I couldn’t look at her.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
That single word hurt more than any scream.
I swallowed.
“Because I wanted to know if you really loved me.”
Silence.
Skyla stared at me as though she were looking at a stranger.
Then she slowly sat down again.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t shout.
She just stared at the money on the floor.
Finally, she whispered something I would never forget.
“You wanted to know if I loved you?”
I nodded miserably.
She looked up.
“Ethan, I spent five days trying to save your life.”
My chest tightened.
“And you spent those same five days waiting to see if I would abandon you.”
I had no defense.
She stood and walked toward the door.
“Skyla, please.”
She stopped without turning around.
“Do you know why I told you not to call me?”
I shook my head.
“Because I was doing things I never wanted you to know about. I was ashamed of how desperate I had become.”
She turned.
“And every time my phone rang, I was afraid I’d hear that you had died before I could get back.”
I covered my mouth.
She reached for the doorknob.
“Keep the money,” I blurted. “I’ll pay for your college. I’ll buy you another car. I’ll replace everything.”
She looked at me with an expression that made my blood run cold.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand!”
Her eyes finally overflowed.
“I never needed you to buy me anything, Ethan.”
She pointed toward the scattered cash.
“I needed you to believe me when I said I loved you.”
Then she opened the door.
But before she stepped outside, she said something that left me frozen.
“There’s one more thing you should know.”
I looked up.
She pressed a trembling hand against her stomach.
“The money wasn’t the only reason I disappeared for five days.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded hospital document.
“I was going to tell you when I came home. I thought you already had enough to worry about.”
She placed the paper beside the envelope.
Then she whispered:
“Three days ago, I found out something about myself. And Ethan… I don’t know how much time I have left to fix it.”
Before I could ask another question, she walked out.
I rushed to the table and unfolded the hospital document.
At first, all I could see was her name.
SKYLA MORGAN.
Then I noticed the date, the emergency department stamp, and a handwritten instruction circled in red.
My hands began shaking.
Because whatever had happened to Skyla during those five days, she had been hiding something far more serious than the money.
And when I finally understood what the document meant, I realized that my cruel little test hadn’t just cost me the woman I loved.
It might have cost her something neither of us could ever get back.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3…
PART 3 — THE SECRET SHE WAS WILLING TO DIE WITH
I stood in the middle of my living room, staring at the hospital document Skyla had left behind.
My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely hold the paper.
At the top was the name of a hospital nearly four hours away.
Beneath it were the words:
EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT — DISCHARGE SUMMARY.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
Skyla had been admitted three days earlier after collapsing outside a medical facility.
Her blood pressure had dropped dangerously low.
She was severely dehydrated, physically exhausted, and suffering from complications following a medical procedure.
But it was the handwritten note at the bottom that made my knees buckle.
PATIENT ADVISED TO RETURN IMMEDIATELY IF BLEEDING, FAINTING, OR SEVERE ABDOMINAL PAIN OCCURS. URGENT FOLLOW-UP REQUIRED.
I stared at those words.
A medical procedure?
What procedure?
Why hadn’t she told me?
I grabbed my phone and called her.
Straight to voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
I sent a message.
“Skyla, please answer. I found the hospital papers. What happened to you?”
No response.
I ran outside.
Her old car wasn’t there.
Of course it wasn’t.
She’d sold it to pay for a treatment I didn’t need.
I stood in my driveway, surrounded by luxury cars worth more than everything Skyla had ever owned, and felt poorer than I’d ever felt in my life.
Then I noticed something else inside the envelope.
A small receipt folded between two banknotes.
It was from a medical research center.
The receipt showed a payment of $4,500.
Beside the amount were three words:
DONOR COMPENSATION — COMPLETED.
My stomach turned.
I searched the center’s name on my phone.
It was a legitimate facility that conducted paid medical research studies.
Some studies required overnight observation, repeated blood draws, and strict medical screening.
But the document didn’t explain what Skyla had participated in.
I called the number immediately.
A receptionist answered.
“Good evening. How can I help you?”
“My girlfriend was there recently. Her name is Skyla Morgan. I need to know what happened.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We can’t discuss a patient’s medical information without authorization.”
“Please, I’m begging you. She collapsed afterward. I have her discharge papers.”
There was a pause.
“Sir, if you believe she’s experiencing a medical emergency, please call emergency services.”
“Was she hurt during your study?”
“I’m unable to confirm whether she was a participant.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Skyla had sold her car.
Her laptop.
Her grandmother’s necklace.
She’d withdrawn from college.
And now, apparently, she’d put her own health at risk trying to raise money for me.
I sank onto the front steps.
For nearly two years, I’d believed I was the one giving more to our relationship because I had more money.
I paid for dinners.
I planned expensive trips.
I bought her gifts she rarely accepted.
But when she thought I was dying, she hadn’t offered me something she could easily replace.
She’d offered everything she had.
And I’d rewarded her with humiliation.
My phone rang.
For one beautiful second, I thought it was Skyla.
It was my mother.
“Ethan, sweetheart, how did it go?”
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
“Your little experiment. Did she come back?”
Something inside me snapped.
“Don’t call it that.”
My mother sounded surprised.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t call what I did an experiment.”
“Ethan, we were only trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? A woman who loved me?”
She sighed.
“Well, did she bring you money?”
I looked at the scattered bills visible through my open front door.
“Yes.”
There was a long silence.
Then my mother laughed softly.
“Well, isn’t that interesting? Perhaps she thought you’d repay her once you recovered.”
I stood up.
“She sold everything she owned.”
“What?”
“Her car. Her laptop. Her grandmother’s necklace. She even dropped out of college.”
My mother’s voice changed.
“Ethan…”
“And she ended up in a hospital trying to earn more.”
Silence.
Then my mother whispered, “Oh, my God.”
“She thought I was dying, Mom.”
I could barely speak.
“She thought I was dying, and instead of leaving me, she destroyed her own life trying to save mine.”
My mother began crying.
But I wasn’t finished.
“You and Dad kept telling me to be careful because she was poor. You made me believe that being poor meant she couldn’t possibly love me without wanting something.”
“Ethan, we never meant—”
“You helped me doubt the only person who never asked me for anything.”
I ended the call.
Then I drove to Skyla’s apartment.
It was a small building near her college, with peeling paint around the windows and a flickering light above the entrance.
I’d offered to move her somewhere nicer dozens of times.
She’d always refused.
“I like knowing I can afford my own home,” she’d say.
Tonight, that memory made me cry again.
I knocked on her door.
No answer.
I knocked harder.
“Skyla! It’s Ethan!”
A door opened across the hallway.
An elderly woman stepped out.
“Are you looking for the young lady in apartment twelve?”
“Yes. Have you seen her?”
The woman frowned.
“She came back about an hour ago. She was carrying a bag, but she looked terribly pale.”
“Did she leave?”
“I don’t think so.”
I knocked again.
“Skyla, please. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But please just tell me you’re okay.”
Nothing.
Then I heard a faint sound.
A thud.
I froze.
“Skyla?”
Another sound came from inside.
Something scraping against the floor.
I tried the handle.
Locked.
My heart began racing.
I called her phone.
This time, I heard it ringing inside the apartment.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then the ringing stopped.
“Skyla!”
I turned to the neighbor.
“Call an ambulance. Please!”
I called emergency services too, explaining that Skyla had recently been hospitalized and might have collapsed inside.
The dispatcher told me help was on the way and asked me to remain on the line.
I kept shouting her name.
Then, through the door, I heard the faintest whisper.
“Ethan…”
I pressed my ear against the wood.
“Skyla! I’m here!”
“Go away.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Please open the door.”
“I don’t want you…”
Her words dissolved into a weak cough.
Then came a sound that made my blood turn cold.
A sharp cry of pain.
“Skyla!”
I heard something fall.
Then silence.
The dispatcher stayed on the line while the neighbor ran downstairs to meet the ambulance crew.
Minutes later, emergency responders arrived with the building manager.
They opened the apartment using an emergency key.
I rushed forward, but a paramedic stopped me.
“Sir, give us room.”
And then I saw her.
Skyla was lying on the kitchen floor.
One hand was pressed against her abdomen.
Her face was almost colorless.
There was a broken glass beside her and water spreading across the tiles.
“Skyla!”
I dropped beside her before the paramedic gently moved me back.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Ethan?”
“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”
She tried to speak.
I leaned closer.
“Don’t talk. Please. Help is here.”
But she gripped my wrist.
“Don’t let them…”
Her breathing became shallow.
“Don’t let them call…”
“Call who?”
Tears slipped down the sides of her face.
“My father.”
I stared at her.
Skyla had told me her father disappeared when she was fifteen.
She said she hadn’t seen him in years.
“Why would they call your father?”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Because…”
She winced.
“Because he knows…”
Her eyes closed.
“Skyla!”
The paramedic checked her pulse.
“We need to move now.”
They lifted her onto a stretcher.
I followed them downstairs and drove behind the ambulance to the hospital.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t care how expensive my car was.
I didn’t care about my business.
I didn’t care about my bank accounts.
I cared about one thing.
Whether the woman I’d betrayed would survive the night.
At the hospital, doctors rushed Skyla into the emergency department.
I waited outside, pacing the hallway.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then forty.
Finally, a doctor approached me.
“Are you family?”
“I’m her boyfriend.”
“Do you know what medical procedure she underwent three days ago?”
I shook my head.
The doctor studied my face.
“Do you know whether she participated in a compensated medical research study?”
“I found a receipt. But I don’t know what they did.”
He nodded.
“We’re still reviewing her records. She has significant blood loss and needs urgent treatment. We’re also investigating whether there’s a complication related to a recent procedure.”
My legs felt weak.
“Is she going to die?”
“We’re doing everything we can to stabilize her.”
I covered my face.
“Please. Whatever she needs, I’ll pay for it.”
The doctor looked at me.
“Right now, the most important thing is her medical care, not the bill.”
He turned to leave.
“Doctor, wait.”
He stopped.
“She mentioned her father. She said not to call him.”
His expression became serious.
“We’ll follow the appropriate procedures regarding her emergency contacts and consent.”
Then he disappeared through the doors.
I sat down.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Skyla had said those words.
Don’t let them call my father.
What was she afraid of?
Why had she kept that part of her life so secret?
An hour later, my mother arrived.
I hadn’t called her.
My father was with her.
They approached slowly.
“Ethan,” my mother whispered.
I didn’t stand.
“How did you find me?”
“Your mother called Skyla’s apartment after you hung up,” Dad said. “Her neighbor told us an ambulance had come.”
I looked away.
My mother sat beside me.
“How is she?”
“I don’t know.”
She began crying.
“I’m so sorry.”
I stared at the floor.
“Don’t apologize to me.”
She nodded.
“You’re right.”
Then my father said something that surprised me.
“Son, there’s something we need to tell you.”
I looked up.
His face was unusually pale.
“What?”
He exchanged a glance with my mother.
“After you told us about the hospital receipt, I asked someone to look into the research center.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because the name sounded familiar.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
“I recognized it from an investment proposal our company reviewed last year.”
I stood.
“Are you saying you know the people running it?”
“Not personally. But I know the company that owns it.”
“Then find out what happened to her!”
“We’re trying.”
He hesitated.
“But Ethan, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The facility where Skyla went has been the subject of complaints about its recruitment practices.”
I felt sick.
“What kind of complaints?”
“Allegations that financially desperate volunteers weren’t always given clear explanations of the risks.”
I stared at him.
“And you knew about this?”
“We declined the investment because of those concerns.”
Before I could answer, the emergency department doors opened.
A nurse approached us.
“Mr. Carter?”
I stepped forward.
“That’s me.”
“Ms. Morgan is stable enough for further treatment. She’s conscious, but very weak.”
I nearly collapsed with relief.
“Can I see her?”
“She has specifically asked not to see you right now.”
Those words hit me harder than I expected.
I nodded.
“I understand.”
The nurse hesitated.
“However, she did ask us to give you something.”
She handed me a small plastic bag containing Skyla’s personal belongings.
Inside were her keys, her phone, and a folded photograph.
I recognized the picture.
It was taken on our first anniversary.
Skyla was laughing.
I had my arms wrapped around her.
On the back, in her handwriting, she’d written:
The first person who ever made me feel safe.
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
Then I noticed another piece of paper tucked behind it.
It was a letter.
My name was written across the front.
I unfolded it with trembling hands.
“Ethan,
If you’re reading this, something probably went wrong, and I wasn’t brave enough to explain everything myself.
There is something I never told you about my family.
I didn’t leave home just because I wanted to be independent.
I left because of what my father did to my mother.
And three days ago, while I was trying to find money for your treatment, I discovered that he has been looking for me again.
I thought I could handle it alone.
But I was wrong.
If he comes looking for me, please don’t believe anything he says.
Especially if he tells you that I owe him money.
Because the truth is much worse.”
I stopped reading.
My hands were trembling.
There was one final sentence.
“And Ethan, if a man named Daniel Morgan comes to your house, do not let him inside.”
At that exact moment, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke calmly.
“Is this Ethan Carter?”
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Daniel Morgan.”
My entire body went cold.
The man continued.
“I’m Skyla’s father.”
I couldn’t speak.
Then he said something that made me look straight toward my parents.
“I understand my daughter has been collecting money for your medical treatment.”
I gripped the phone.
“How do you know that?”
He chuckled softly.
“Because, Ethan, I’m the reason she had to disappear for five days.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What did you do to her?”
His voice turned cold.
“Before you start asking questions, there’s something you should know.”
I heard a car engine in the background.
Then he said:
“Your girlfriend didn’t tell you everything about the money she brought home. And if you want to know where the largest amount really came from, you’d better ask your father.”
I slowly turned toward Dad.
He was staring at me.
And for the first time that night, I noticed something I’d missed before.
He looked terrified.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
PART 4 — THE TERRIBLE SECRET MY FATHER HAD BEEN HIDING
I stood in the hospital hallway, holding my phone against my ear, staring at my father as though I were seeing him for the first time.
“What did you just say?” I whispered.
Daniel Morgan laughed quietly.
“You heard me, Ethan. Ask your father where the money came from.”
My father took one step toward me.
“Who’s on the phone?”
I didn’t answer.
Daniel continued.
“Your girlfriend has always been stubborn. Just like her mother. She’d rather destroy herself than ask for help from the wrong person.”
“What did you do to Skyla?”
“Nothing she didn’t agree to.”
My blood boiled.
“She’s in the hospital!”
A brief silence followed.
Then Daniel said, “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
Unfortunate.
That was the word he used to describe his own daughter lying in a hospital bed after nearly dying.
I wanted to reach through the phone and drag him into that hallway.
“Listen to me carefully,” I said. “If you hurt her, I swear—”
“Careful, young man. Threats won’t help your girlfriend.”
Then he lowered his voice.
“Your father and I have unfinished business. Tell him Daniel Morgan wants what he’s owed.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
My mother touched my arm.
“Ethan? Who was that?”
I looked directly at Dad.
“Daniel Morgan.”
His face changed instantly.
The color drained from his cheeks.
Mom looked between us.
“Who’s Daniel Morgan?”
I stepped closer to my father.
“Skyla’s father. And apparently, you know him.”
Dad swallowed.
“Ethan, this isn’t the place.”
I almost laughed.
“Not the place?”
My voice echoed through the hallway.
“The woman I love is lying in a hospital bed because she thought I was dying. Her father just called me and said you know where her money came from. And you’re telling me this isn’t the place?”
Several people turned toward us.
My father glanced around nervously.
“Lower your voice.”
“No.”
“Ethan—”
“Tell me the truth!”
He closed his eyes.
Then he said five words that made my stomach drop.
“I knew Skyla’s mother.”
I froze.
“What?”
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“Her name was Rebecca Morgan.”
I remembered Skyla telling me about her mother.
Rebecca had died when Skyla was fourteen.
Skyla rarely spoke about those final months, except to say that her mother had worked herself into exhaustion trying to provide for them.
“How did you know her?”
My father didn’t answer immediately.
My mother was staring at him.
“Robert,” she whispered, “what is he talking about?”
Dad looked at her with an expression I’d never seen before.
Shame.
“Rebecca worked for our company years ago.”
I frowned.
“Doing what?”
“She was a financial compliance officer.”
My father looked toward the emergency department doors.
“She discovered something she wasn’t supposed to find.”
I felt my heart begin to pound.
“What did she discover?”
Dad hesitated.
Then he whispered, “Money was disappearing from one of our investment funds.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“Nearly six million dollars.”
My mother gasped.
“Robert!”
Dad held up a hand.
“Let me finish.”
He turned back to me.
“Rebecca discovered that Daniel Morgan was involved in a scheme to divert company money through several outside accounts.”
“Skyla’s father stole from you?”
“Yes. But he wasn’t working alone.”
Something about the way Dad said those words made me feel sick.
“Who else?”
He looked down.
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then he said, “My former business partner.”
I exhaled.
But the relief lasted only a second.
“Why didn’t you report them?”
Dad’s silence told me everything.
I stepped backward.
“Oh, my God.”
“Ethan, it wasn’t that simple.”
“Why didn’t you report them?”
“Because I signed documents without reviewing them properly. My signature was on transactions I didn’t understand. If the authorities had investigated, I could have been implicated.”
I stared at him.
“So you covered it up?”
“I tried to recover the money quietly.”
“And Rebecca?”
Dad’s eyes filled with tears.
“She refused to stay quiet.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened to her?”
“She gathered evidence. She planned to go to the authorities.”
He swallowed.
“But before she could, Daniel found out.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I felt cold all over.
“What did he do?”
Dad looked away.
“He threatened her.”
I waited.
“Then what?”
“She lost her job. Daniel took control of their finances. She and Skyla moved into a small apartment. Rebecca became ill not long afterward.”
I stared at him.
“Did you help her?”
Dad didn’t answer.
“DAD!”
“No,” he whispered.
That one word nearly brought me to my knees.
Skyla had spent years struggling to pay tuition.
She’d worked exhausting shifts.
She’d driven a car that barely ran.
She’d gone hungry to save money.
And my father had known her mother.
He’d known what happened to her family.
He’d known the man responsible.
Yet he’d never said a word.
“Did you know who Skyla was when I introduced her to you?”
My father slowly nodded.
I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach.
“You knew?”
“Ethan—”
“You knew for almost two years?”
“I recognized her last name. Then I saw a photograph of her mother on her social media page.”
I stared at him.
“And you never told me?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That Daniel would come back into our lives.”
Suddenly, everything made sense.
My father’s warnings.
His insistence that Skyla might be after our money.
The way he always seemed uncomfortable whenever she visited.
He hadn’t been protecting me from a gold digger.
He’d been protecting himself from the past.
I took a step away.
“You let me believe she was using me.”
My father looked devastated.
“I never wanted you to hurt her.”
“But you knew what her family had been through!”
He lowered his head.
I shook mine.
“And now she’s in the hospital because I believed you.”
My mother began sobbing.
But I couldn’t comfort her.
Not anymore.
I turned and walked toward the waiting room.
My father followed.
“Ethan, there’s something else.”
I stopped.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded bank document.
“I wasn’t completely honest about the money.”
My stomach tightened.
“What money?”
“The amount Skyla brought you.”
He unfolded the paper.
“Three days ago, someone transferred forty thousand dollars into an account connected to Daniel Morgan.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because Daniel contacted me before he contacted you.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What?”
“He demanded money in exchange for keeping quiet about the old transactions.”
“And you paid him?”
Dad shook his head.
“No. I refused.”
“Then where did the forty thousand come from?”
He hesitated.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out.”
I stared at the document.
The transfer had been made from an account I didn’t recognize.
But beneath the account number was a name.
SKYLA R. MORGAN.
My hands began shaking.
“Skyla transferred forty thousand dollars to her father?”
Dad nodded.
“That’s what the record appears to show.”
I couldn’t understand.
Skyla barely had enough money for groceries.
She’d sold everything to raise a fraction of that amount.
Where could she possibly have gotten forty thousand dollars?
Then I remembered Daniel’s words.
She’d rather destroy herself than ask for help from the wrong person.
I looked up.
“What did she do?”
Dad shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
At that moment, a nurse approached us.
“Mr. Carter?”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“Ms. Morgan is asking for you.”
My heart stopped.
“She wants to see me?”
The nurse nodded.
“She’s awake. But please keep the visit brief. She’s still very weak.”
I followed her down the hallway.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
When we reached Skyla’s room, I stopped in the doorway.
She was lying against white pillows.
An IV line ran into her arm.
Her skin was pale, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes.
But she was alive.
That was all I could think about.
“Skyla?”
She slowly turned her head.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “You found the letter.”
I nodded.
“And your father called me.”
Her expression changed immediately.
“What did he say?”
“He told me to ask my father about the money.”
Skyla closed her eyes.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Of course he did.”
I approached the bed.
“Skyla, please. Tell me what’s happening.”
She stared at the ceiling.
“I didn’t want you involved.”
“I’m already involved.”
She shook her head.
“No, Ethan. You don’t understand.”
I sat beside her.
“Then help me understand.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she asked something that caught me completely off guard.
“Do you remember the night we first met?”
I nodded.
“At the coffee shop near campus.”
She smiled faintly.
“You spilled coffee all over your expensive shirt.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“And you laughed at me.”
“Because you looked so offended that a cup of coffee had dared to ruin your day.”
I lowered my head.
“Skyla…”
She reached for my hand.
I hesitated.
After everything I’d done, I didn’t feel worthy of touching her.
But she took my hand anyway.
“I loved you before I knew how much money you had,” she whispered.
Tears burned my eyes.
“I know.”
“No, Ethan. You don’t.”
She looked directly at me.
“Because if you really knew, you never would have tested me.”
I began crying.
“You’re right.”
She squeezed my hand weakly.
“When you told me you were dying, I thought about my mother.”
Her voice trembled.
“I remembered sitting beside her hospital bed, watching her get weaker while I stood there helpless.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“I was fourteen. I had no money. No one to call. No way to make anything better.”
She swallowed.
“When you told me you needed treatment, I promised myself I wouldn’t lose another person I loved because I couldn’t afford to help.”
I covered my face.
“I’m so sorry.”
She continued.
“I sold everything I could. Then I found the medical research study.”
My heart tightened.
“Skyla, what happened there?”
She looked away.
“They told me I could earn money by participating in a monitored procedure. I passed the screening, signed the forms, and stayed overnight.”
“Did they explain the risks?”
“Some of them.”
She took a shaky breath.
“I started feeling sick afterward. I told them something was wrong, but I thought I could recover at home.”
I looked at the IV line.
“And the forty thousand dollars?”
Her eyes widened.
“How do you know about that?”
“My father showed me a transfer.”
Skyla’s face crumpled.
“Oh, Ethan.”
“Where did it come from?”
She began trembling.
I leaned closer.
“Please tell me.”
She whispered, “My mother left something behind.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Before she died, she gave me a sealed envelope and told me never to open it unless I was desperate.”
Skyla stared at me.
“I kept it for eleven years.”
My heart began racing.
“What was inside?”
“Documents. Account information. Copies of transactions. Evidence of what my father did.”
I swallowed.
“And the money?”
She closed her eyes.
“Forty thousand dollars in an account my mother had set aside for my future.”
I stared at her.
“You had forty thousand dollars?”
“I didn’t know about it until I opened the envelope.”
“Then why did you send it to your father?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because he found out.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“How?”
“I called an old family contact while trying to understand the documents. Somehow, my father heard about it.”
She began crying.
“He told me that if I didn’t transfer the money, he’d come after me. He said he’d make sure I lost everything, just like my mother did.”
I gripped the edge of the bed.
“Skyla, that’s extortion.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Because I was scared. And because I thought you were dying.”
Her voice broke.
“I couldn’t handle losing you and fighting him at the same time.”
I lowered my head.
She had been fighting two battles.
One against a father who terrified her.
And another against an illness that didn’t exist.
Both because of secrets and lies.
I whispered, “Did you give him the documents too?”
Skyla shook her head.
“No.”
“Where are they?”
She looked toward the door.
Then she leaned closer.
“Somewhere safe.”
“Skyla—”
“Ethan, listen carefully.”
Her expression became serious.
“My mother didn’t just discover stolen money.”
I felt a chill.
“What else?”
“She discovered that someone inside your father’s company had been using the business to hide payments connected to illegal medical recruitment.”
My heart nearly stopped.
“Medical recruitment?”
Skyla nodded.
“The same company that owns the research center I went to.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too.”
She swallowed.
“But when I saw the facility’s name on the paperwork, I recognized it from my mother’s files.”
My mind raced.
My father had said his company reviewed an investment proposal from that research center last year.
But Skyla’s mother had died more than a decade earlier.
How could the same company have been involved back then?
Unless the connection went much deeper than my father had admitted.
Skyla squeezed my hand.
“Ethan, your father knows more than he’s telling you.”
I shook my head.
“He told me about the stolen money.”
“Did he tell you who authorized the original payments?”
I stared at her.
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
Then she whispered, “That’s what my mother discovered.”
I leaned closer.
“Who was it?”
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the door.
A nurse stepped inside.
“Ms. Morgan, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here asking to see you.”
Skyla stiffened.
“Who?”
The nurse glanced at her clipboard.
“A gentleman who says he’s your father.”
Every trace of color disappeared from Skyla’s face.
“No,” she whispered.
I stood immediately.
“Don’t let him in.”
The nurse looked concerned.
“Of course. We won’t allow visitors without her permission.”
Skyla grabbed my wrist.
“Ethan, listen to me.”
Her voice was shaking.
“He’s not here because he cares about me.”
“I know.”
“He’s here for the envelope.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Then Skyla said something that made my blood run cold.
“And there’s something else you need to know.”
I turned back.
She was crying now.
“My mother didn’t die from the illness everyone believed she had.”
I froze.
“What?”
Skyla swallowed.
“Before she died, she told me someone had been making her sick.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
Then she whispered:
“The person who signed the final authorization was someone your family trusted more than anyone.”
Before I could ask what she meant, shouting erupted outside the room.
I heard my father’s voice.
“Get away from that door!”
Then another voice answered.
A voice I recognized from the phone.
Daniel Morgan.
“Robert, you should have told your son the truth years ago.”
I rushed toward the doorway.
And what I saw made me stop dead.
Daniel was standing in the hallway, holding an old photograph.
My father was staring at it as though he’d seen a ghost.
Daniel smiled.
“Go ahead, Robert. Tell Ethan who the woman in this picture really was.”
He turned the photograph toward me.
It showed my father standing beside Rebecca Morgan.
But they weren’t alone.
My mother was there too.
And beneath the photograph, written in Rebecca’s handwriting, were six words:
“IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, ASK HER.”
I looked at my mother.
Her face was white.
Then she whispered something that shattered everything I thought I knew about my family.
“Ethan… Rebecca wasn’t supposed to die.”
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 5…………………………………………………………………..
