They Faked Their Deaths, I Faked My Recovery Chapter 10
Something in Graham’s eyes died. He looked down at Wesley crying beside him and pulled the boy into his arms.
He held his son and looked up at me like a man with nothing left to bargain with.
“Mara, I know what I did. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“But Wesley is innocent.”
“Give me one more chance. For him. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to both of you. I swear I’ll never hurt you again.”
Wesley’s face was wet with tears. He kept looking at me, saying the same word over and over. “Mom. Mom.”
I looked at him. Something twisted in my chest, sharp and quick, but it passed. I didn’t bend.
“He told me I wasn’t his mother three years ago. Why should I call him my son now?”
I shut the door.
Graham didn’t stop.
He showed up every few days.
He’d drive twelve miles to buy the chocolate mousse cake I used to love. On Mother’s Day, he brought Wesley with a handwritten card.
When I had cramps, he’d show up with a heating pad and painkillers.
He’d done all of this before, back when we were dating.
—
But that hadn’t stopped him from sleeping with my sister. It hadn’t stopped him from destroying me to protect her.
I thought about it for a long time. Then I pressed charges.
For three years, Graham had worked with Sloane, my family, and my friends to feed me fake leads about a killer who never existed.
They’d paid people to stage those attacks to make it believable. They’d put me in danger over and over again.
My body was covered in scars because of them. Forgiveness was never on the table.
In court, Graham didn’t fight the charges. He pled guilty to every charge.
He got ten years for aggravated assault.
He wasn’t the only one who went down.
Graham’s best friend. My best friend. Caleb, the kid I’d put through school. All convicted as accomplices.
One to three years each.
Justice. Three years late, but it came.
With Graham in prison, custody of Wesley came to me.
Graham’s parents were convinced I’d take it out on Wesley. They fought me with threats, guilt trips, and harassment until I gave up custody.
I’d never wanted that responsibility. So I let them have him.
—
The day they came for him, Wesley wouldn’t let go of me. He kept asking the same thing.
“Mom, are you leaving me?”
“Mom, will you still come see me?”
I looked at him, and every version of him I’d ever known flashed through my head.
The day he was born, red-faced, wrinkled, not cute at all, and I loved him so much I couldn’t breathe.
The first time he said “Mom,” I picked him up and kissed his face until he squirmed. I wanted him to say it forever.
The day of the explosion, I’d knelt on the ground and gathered every fragment of bone with my bare hands. My whole world ended.
And when I finally found him alive, he shoved me away and told me I didn’t love him. Told me Sloane was his mom now.
That hurt worse than the flooded cell ever did.
I smiled at Wesley one last time.
“Be good, okay? Maybe I’ll come see you sometime.”
Wesley nodded fast, over and over, and a smile broke through the tears.
But this time, I was lying.
I’d turned in my resignation a few days earlier.
Too many injuries, too many years. My body couldn’t do the job
—
anymore.
All I wanted now was to see the world. Alone.
My flight for Aurora Isle left in two hours.
No return date. No plan. Just go.
Everything I’d survived, all of it, stayed behind.
After they took Wesley, I snapped my SIM card in half, picked up my suitcase, and walked out the door.
The End.