Chapter 3 - THE CONFESSION OF TEARS
The guest room was dark, the only light filtering through the cracks in the wooden blinds from the moon outside. Abigail pushed the door open gently. Scarlett was sitting on the floor in the corner, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. The beautiful silk wedding gown, which Abigail had helped her pick out just three months ago, was stained with her own tears and crumpled beneath her. Howard, Abigail’s brother-in-law, stood awkwardly by the window, clearly out of his depth.
“Howard, give us a minute,” Abigail whispered, not taking her eyes off the trembling bride. Howard nodded silently and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Abigail sank to the floor, not caring that her expensive mother-of-the-groom dress was collecting dust. She sat about two feet away from Scarlett, giving her space but making her presence known. For a long time, the only sound was Scarlett’s ragged breathing.
“He knows,” Scarlett whispered, her voice so hoarse it barely sounded human. She didn’t look up. Her hands were tangled in her hair, gripping the strands as if trying to ground herself in reality. “He knows about the car. He knows about the accident.”
Abigail’s heart fractured. A small, desperate part of her had hoped Cedric was wrong, that his private investigator had made a mistake, that this was all a tragic misunderstanding. “Is it true, Scarlett?” Abigail asked, her voice cracking. “Did you… did you hit Hannah?”
Scarlett slowly lifted her head. Her makeup was completely ruined, dark streaks of mascara running down her pale cheeks. But it wasn’t just fear in her eyes anymore; there was a profound, exhausting sorrow—a grief that mirrored Cedric’s, yet carried the crushing weight of immense guilt.
“I was in the car,” Scarlett said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “But I wasn’t driving, Abigail. I swear on my life, I wasn’t driving.”
Abigail leaned forward, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean? Cedric has an insurance claim. Your father’s car—”
“It was my father’s car, but my father was the one driving!” Scarlett cried out, a sob tearing through her throat. She dragged herself across the carpet, grabbing Abigail’s hands with an icy, desperate grip. “I was nineteen. My father had been drinking heavily. We were arguing because I wanted to move away. It was raining so hard. I told him to slow down, I begged him to stop the car. When we hit her… oh God, the sound… I screamed for him to stop. But he didn’t. He kept driving. He drove us straight to his private garage.”
Scarlett broke down, burying her face in Abigail’s lap. Abigail instinctively began stroking the girl's hair, her maternal instincts overriding the shock.
“He threatened me, Abigail,” Scarlett choked out between sobs. “My father is a powerful, ruthless man. He told me that if I ever breathed a word to the police, he would ruin my mother’s life. He would make sure she ended up on the street. He sent me away to Chicago the next morning. He paid someone to fix the car and filed a fake claim saying I had hit a deer while out of state. I’ve lived with the nightmares every single night. When I met Cedric… when I fell in love with him… I didn’t know who he was to her. Not at first. By the time I found out Hannah was his Hannah, I was already so deeply in love with him. I wanted to tell him. I tried a hundred times. But I was so afraid he would look at me exactly the way he looked at me tonight.”
Abigail sat in stunned silence. The puzzle pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Thomas Vance—a man notoriously known in local business circles for his cutthroat tactics and lack of morals. It made perfect sense. Scarlett, the quiet girl who always did the dishes, who never wanted attention, who constantly looked as though she was apologizing just for existing. She wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. She was a hostage to her father’s sins.
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“Cedric locked the door,” Scarlett whispered, pulling back to look at Abigail with wide, terrified eyes. “He threw her bloody scarf at me. He told me he was going to destroy me piece by piece. Abigail, he hates me. My husband hates me.”
“Hush, my sweet girl,” Abigail murmured, tears spilling down her own cheeks as she pulled Scarlett into a fierce embrace. “You are not alone in this anymore. I am here. We are going to fix this, and the truth will come to the light. I promise you.”
