My Childhood Friend Pretended to Love Me, Not Knowing I Could Hear His Thoughts Chapter 08

My Childhood Friend Pretended to Love Me, Not Knowing I Could Hear His Thoughts Chapter 08

News of the Price family’s arrest spread fast through the wealthy circles of the city.

First, Cynthia and Skylar were formally arraigned, and the local news covered the story. They used pseudonyms, but everyone knew who it was.

Then my father’s company started to fall apart.

Federal auditors showed up and found three years of tax evasion. His bank called in his loans. Two major construction projects fell through when contractors discovered safety violations.

When it rains, it pours.

When I went to see my father at the hospital, he had just finished a round of chemotherapy. He looked like a ghost. When he saw me, his eyes lit up. He tried to sit up.

“Elena… you came…”

I didn’t answer. I set a basket of fruit on his bedside table.

On the table was a framed photo of the three of us. Me, my mother, and him. I was ten years old. My mother was laughing. He had hair then, and his eyes were clear.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked.

“Liver cancer. Late stage.” He smiled bitterly. “They found it three months ago. I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Did Cynthia know?”

His smile turned even more bitter. “Oh, she knew. She even bought me special vitamins. Imported.”

“She said they would help with the chemo side effects. I took them for three months. My liver function kept getting worse.”

He closed his eyes. Tears leaked down his hollow cheeks.

“The police tested them yesterday. They found a slow poison. Small doses, built up over time. Just enough to make it look like organ failure. Like natural causes.”

I listened. I felt nothing.

“My wife and my daughter,” he whispered.

“They were planning it. Cynthia killed your mother to marry me. Skylar used Jacob to destroy you. And when I was dead, everything would have been theirs.”

“They were too impatient,” I said. “They didn’t wait for you to die. They came after me first. And that’s how they got caught.”

“No,” he said. “That’s not how.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “That’s how you caught them.”

I didn’t answer.

“Do you hate me, Elena?” he asked.

I thought about it. Yes. I hated him for betraying my mother. For bringing Cynthia and Skylar into our house. For letting my mother die alone. For ignoring me all those years.

But hate is heavy. I had been carrying it for three years. I didn’t want to carry it anymore.

“I’ll deal with the company,” I said, turning toward the door. “I’ll handle the assets according to the law.”

I stopped at the door. I didn’t turn around.

“Spend your remaining time thinking about one thing, Dad. Who in your life did you actually deserve?”

I walked out of the room. The hallway smelled like antiseptic. I sat on a bench in the waiting area until a nurse came to tell me visiting hours were over.

My phone buzzed. A message from my lawyer.

She told me that because I was Richard’s only legal heir, and because Cynthia and Skylar were under investigation for the murder of my mother, they had no right to inherit any of the Martinez family assets under state law.

Richard’s company was plagued with problems, but the core assets and a few high-quality projects were still intact.

With the right approach, it might even be brought back from the brink of collapse.

I wrote back: [Liquidate the bad assets. Restructure what can be saved. Anything connected to Cynthia or Skylar, sell it or shut it down.]

The lawyer responded quickly:

[Understood.]

[Also, the homes, cars, and jewelry in Cynthia and Skylar’s names have been seized pending trial. Jacob Harrison’s family business is also being investigated. His father is trying to make calls, but no one is picking up.]

That didn’t surprise me. Jacob’s father had built his company on contracts from my father’s projects. With the Martinez company collapsing, the Harrison company went with it.

A week later, Jacob’s case went to trial. Criminal mischief. Tampering with official documents. Conspiracy.

I didn’t attend. My lawyer handled it. The evidence was clear. Jacob pleaded guilty and was sentenced to eighteen months in prison.

I saw him on the news that night.

He was wearing an orange jumpsuit. His head was shaved. He stood in the defendant’s box with empty eyes.

A reporter asked if he had anything to say to me. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He said nothing.

But I knew what he was thinking. [Elena, how could you do this to me?] Or [I’ll make you pay for this.]

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

A month later, my mother’s case went to trial.

I sat in the front row, behind the prosecution. Cynthia and Skylar sat at the defendant’s table, both of them pale and thin.

Cynthia had gray roots showing. Skylar’s eyes, once so wet with fake tears, were now flat and dead.

The prosecution laid out the evidence piece by piece. The video. The switched medication. The messages. The poison vitamins. The anonymous complaint. The shredded ticket.

The defense tried to push back, but the judge overruled their objections.

During closing arguments, the prosecutor stood in front of the jury.

“Three years ago, a mother died on her own living room floor. Her medication had been switched. A fourteen-year-old girl filmed her dying and laughed.”

“Three years later, that same mother’s daughter almost had her future stolen away at her exam site.”

“Why? Jealousy. Greed. Because some people believe that if they remove the obstacles, they can take what doesn’t belong to them.”

“But the law does not agree. Justice does not agree. And none of us with a conscience should agree.”

“Today, we stand here not only to get justice for a woman who was murdered. We stand here to say that a crime might be hidden for a while, but the truth will always come out. And every person who breaks the law will eventually pay.”

The courtroom was silent.

The judge looked at the clock. “The court will recess for deliberations.”

I walked out of the courthouse into bright sunlight. Reporters swarmed me, their cameras flashing.

“Elena, what verdict are you hoping for?”

“Do you forgive them?”

“What are your plans now?”

I looked into the cameras. “I’m hoping for the verdict the law requires. Forgiveness?”

I paused. “Forgiveness is for the court to decide after sentencing. My job was to give them the evidence to put these people where they belong.”

The cameras flashed again. I turned and walked to my car.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Sunset Hills.”

My mother’s grave was at the top of a hill. I carried a bouquet of white lilies to the headstone and crouched down. I wiped the dust from her photo. She looked so young. So kind.

“Mom,” I whispered. “The people who hurt you are finally going to pay. You can rest now.”

“I’m going to take care of the Martinez family. I’m going to make it clean again.”

“You always said that money doesn’t matter. What matters is being able to look at yourself in the mirror. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Also, I got into Pinecrest. Early admission. Just like you always wanted.”

The wind blew through the trees surrounding the cemetery. The leaves rustled. It sounded like a whisper.

I stood up. I looked at her photo one more time, and turned to leave.

As I walked down the hill, my phone rang. It was an admissions counselor from Pinecrest University.

“Elena, your official acceptance packet has been mailed. Also, the university has a new student entrepreneur program.”

“I saw your application. You’d be perfect for it. Let me know if you want to come to campus early.”

“Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

I hung up and tilted my head back.

The sky was wide and blue. White clouds drifted across it. A flock of birds flew past, heading into the distance.