Chapter 6

Ivana's mother, Mrs. Priscilla, was shown taking out her late husband's clothes to burn.

Seeing her father's shirt, Ivana's eyes instantly welled up.

"Mom, Dad's clothes are all worn out…"

Mrs. Priscilla turned away, tears in her eyes.

Ivana pressed her face against the fabric, her tears soaking the faded cloth.

"I promised… I promised I'd buy Dad so many new clothes when I grew up…"

"But now… he's gone."

The memory was from years after Mr. Priscilla's death. Ivana was nineteen, just starting college on a scholarship. She still didn't know the truth about her father.

But the next memory on the screen was from earlier—days after Lucy's funeral.

In it, Mrs. Priscilla sat across from me in my burned-out house, the only two walls still standing behind us.

"You know, don't you?" Mrs. Priscilla's voice was flat.

Sixteen-year-old me stared at the ground. I nodded.

"I found his clothes that night," she continued. "Mud. Blood. I'm not stupid, Selena."

"Then why—"

"Because he's dead." Her voice cracked. "He walked into the river the same night Lucy was buried. I found the note. He couldn't live with what he did."

My eyes widened on the screen. "He's—"

"I told everyone it was an accident. That he slipped on the wet rocks." Mrs. Priscilla's hands twisted in her lap. "If the truth comes out, Ivana will lose everything. Her father's memory, her pride, her will to live."

"You want me to keep the secret too."

"I'm begging you."

In the audience, the real Ivana was shaking uncontrollably.

Her mother—her sweet, gentle, long-suffering mother—had known the truth all along.

Had known that her husband raped Lucy.

Had known that he killed himself out of guilt.

And had buried it all to protect Ivana.

"Mom…" Ivana's whisper was barely audible over the roaring crowd. "You knew?"

Mrs. Priscilla, watching from the edge of the stage, pressed her hand to her heart. Tears streamed down her face.

She walked forward, slowly, until she stood in front of me in the chair.

Then she bowed deeply, her voice heavy with sorrow.

"Selena! I'm so sorry!"

My eyes stayed closed. Blood and tears mixed on my face.

"You bore ten years of hatred, ten years of loneliness, ten years of people spitting on you and burning your home and killing your dog—all to keep a promise you never should have been asked to make."

She turned to her daughter.

"Ivana. Your father… was the one who hurt Lucy."