Chapter 12 - THE PLEA OFFERThe prosecutor offered Dad a deal in July.
Thirty years.
No trial.
Full confession to the financial crimes, attempted murder, and obstruction in Mom’s case. Not murder. Not yet. The evidence was strong, but the state was cautious. Without a body re-examination and with old corruption in the file, they feared losing the homicide charge.
Thirty years meant he would likely die in prison.
Aunt Eleanor wanted him to take it.
Chloe did too, though she barely admitted it.
I said nothing.
The decision was not mine legally, but everyone watched me as if it were.
Detective Vance came to Eleanor’s house on a humid Thursday afternoon.
I was practicing steps with my cane in the living room.
One step.
Breathe.
Another step.
Don’t fall.
Vance waited until I sat down.
“He rejected it,” she said.
Aunt Eleanor closed her eyes.
Chloe whispered, “Why?”
Vance looked at me.
“Because he believes he can still win.”
Of course he did.
Men like my father did not believe in guilt. They believed in bad optics, temporary inconvenience, and women who would eventually get tired.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Trial date in October.”
October.
Five years after Mom died.
Ten months after I started saving to leave.
A lifetime and no time at all.
That evening, Dad called Chloe from jail.
She almost didn’t answer.
Then she put it on speaker and nodded for me and Aunt Eleanor to stay.
His voice came through warm and broken.
“Chloe-bug.”
She went pale.
A childhood nickname. A weapon wrapped in honey.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I wanted to hear my daughter.”
“You have two.”
Silence.
Then a sigh.
“Your sister has poisoned you.”
Chloe gripped the phone.
“No. She stopped letting you poison me.”
His voice hardened for half a second before softening again.
“Baby, listen. They’re going to put me away forever. You can fix this. You can say you were confused.”
Aunt Eleanor took one step forward, but I lifted a hand.
Chloe needed this moment.
“You tried to kill Maya,” she said.
“You don’t understand adult things.”
“You said Mom learned what leaving costs.”
Another silence.
Then Dad laughed quietly.
“You always were easy to scare.”
Chloe’s face drained of color.
“I know.”
His laugh stopped.
“I was easy to scare,” she continued. “So you used me. You made me betray the only person who was actually taking care of me.”
“Chloe—”
“No. I’m done.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“For the first time, I don’t think I will.”
She ended the call.
Then she handed the phone to Detective Vance.
“I recorded it,” she said.
Vance blinked.
So did I.
Chloe gave a small, exhausted smile.
“I learned from Maya.”
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For the first time since the crash, my sister did not look like someone running from the truth.
She looked like someone carrying it.
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