Chapter 15: The Woman Who Knew the Truth

I barely slept that night.

Emma's message remained open on my phone long after midnight.

I know you remember how I died.

Those words were more frightening than any threat could have been.

If Emma remembered the previous life, then she knew exactly what had happened after her death.

But there was something she didn't know.

This time, I was no longer the helpless sister who could be blamed for everything.

At sunrise, Jack found me sitting on the porch with the old documents spread across the table.

He placed a cup of coffee beside me.

"You found something."

"More than I wanted to."

I handed him the housekeeper's statement.

Jack read it carefully.

His expression darkened when he reached the final page.

"This explains why your family kept you away from the West family after Emma's death."

"Why?"

"Because my father knew the housekeeper."

I looked up sharply.

"He knew her?"

"She came to him after leaving your parents' employment. She was terrified."

Jack paused.

"My father wanted to expose them, but before he could, he died in a riding accident."

I stared at him.

Another convenient accident.

Another person who knew too much.

"Do you think it was really an accident?"

Jack didn't answer immediately.

"I don't know. But I know my father never trusted the Ellises after that."

I folded the statement and placed it back into the envelope.

"Then tomorrow night, we find out who ordered my psychiatric evaluation."

"And we find out who the caller is."

Jack nodded.

"But first, you need to meet someone."

He drove me to a small farmhouse on the edge of the property.

An elderly woman opened the door before we even knocked.

The moment she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.

"You're Esme."

I froze.

"How do you know me?"

She stepped aside.

"Come in. I've been waiting for you for years."

The woman's name was Maria.

She had worked for my family for almost twenty years.

She had also been the last person to see Emma alive in my previous life.

Maria poured tea with trembling hands.

"Your grandmother told me that one day you might come looking for the truth."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Maria lowered her eyes.

"Because I was afraid."

"Of my parents?"

"Of what they were capable of."

She opened a wooden cabinet and removed a small cassette recorder.

"Your grandmother gave me this after Emma died."

I stared at it.

"What's on it?"

"A conversation I overheard the night before Emma died."

My pulse quickened.

Maria pressed play.

Static filled the room.

Then my mother's voice emerged.

"She cannot know the truth."

My father's voice followed.

"She won't. Once the evaluation is finalized, everyone will believe Esme is unstable."

My blood ran cold.

Then another voice spoke.

Corbin.

"And what happens to Emma?"

My mother's voice became quiet.

"Emma will be taken care of. She only needs to cooperate."

The recording crackled.

Then Emma's voice appeared.

"What if Esme remembers?"

My father's answer was chilling.

"Then she won't be around long enough to tell anyone."

The recording ended.

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

They had planned it.

Not after Emma died.

Before.

They had already decided that I would become the scapegoat.

Maria reached across the table and touched my hand.

"There was one more person in that room."

I looked at her.

"Who?"

Maria's face turned pale.

"Corbin's mother."

My heart sank.

"She knew everything?"

"She was the one who suggested the psychiatric evaluation."

I closed my eyes.

In my previous life, I had thought Corbin was the only person who loved me.

Now I couldn't tell whether his silence had been ignorance, guilt, or betrayal.

My phone suddenly rang.

It was Corbin.

I answered without speaking.

His voice came through, low and strained.

"Esme, I know you found the recording."

My eyes widened.

"How?"

"Because I was there."

Silence.

"I didn't know what they were planning until it was too late," he said.

"But I should have stopped them."

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"Why didn't you?"

His breathing became uneven.

"Because I believed Emma was dying, and I thought protecting her meant protecting the family."

"I was wrong."

I stared at the wall.

"You're right. You were."

He was silent for a long moment.

Then he whispered,

"Esme, the person who ordered them to get rid of you wasn't my mother."

My heart stopped.

"It was Emma."