“You know the pain,” Mr. Dalton said. “That’s why you will build something that helps people without hurting their pride.”
When I left the meeting, my phone started ringing constantly. Austin called, but I didn’t answer. Sheila called, and I ignored it. My mom called, and I let it ring. Finally, a text came from my dad.
“We saw the news,” Lawrence wrote. “Your mom is crying. We need to talk as a family.”
I opened the news online. My photo was next to a big headline: “Summer Morales to lead multi-million dollar project for Dalton Foundation.”
I smiled, but I didn’t feel happy for them. Now they remembered my name. Now I was a daughter.
Samantha came into my office with two cups of coffee.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“They just found out I’m not starving under a bridge,” I said.
She understood completely.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
I looked out the window at the city. Far away was the old house in Columbus. The house built with my money, my sacrifice, and my silence.
“I’m going to stop protecting people who never protected me,” I said.
That afternoon, I went to the police station. Detective Daugherty listened to me with a serious face.
“Ms. Morales, what do you want to report?” he asked.
I placed a thick envelope on his desk.
“Manslaughter, cover-up, coercion, and obstruction of justice,” I said.
Inside were my mom’s texts asking me to take the blame for Austin, my dad’s voice notes promising me the house, and Sheila’s texts. I also handed over a small USB drive.
The night of the accident, Sheila hid my car’s dashcam memory card in a flowerpot. I saw her, and I dug it up before I went to prison. The video clearly showed Austin driving drunk, Sheila telling him to go faster, the crash, and them running away. I also had a recording of our argument from the day I returned.
Detective Daugherty looked at the evidence.
“Why now, Ms. Morales?” he asked.
“Because I confused love with sacrifice,” I said. “Protecting bad people just makes someone else their next victim.”
Two days later, I invited my family over for dinner using a new phone number.
“I want to make peace,” I texted them. “You are my only family. Come to my apartment tonight.”
My mom replied instantly.
“Of course, sweetie. We always knew you would do the right thing.”
I ordered an expensive dinner with catering waiters, steak, and a nice cake. The doorbell rang at eight o’clock. Abigail came in crying and hugged me tightly.
“My child, we suffered so much without you,” she sobbed.
Lawrence looked around the luxury apartment with greedy eyes.
“It’s beautiful,” my father said. “I always knew you would be successful.”
Austin kissed my cheek.
