Miles’ hand found mine under the table.
My dad stared at my mom for a long, silent moment. Then he looked at me, his eyes tired and fierce.
“We don’t owe her closure,” he said. “But your mother is bleeding inside. And she’ll bleed until she knows.”
My throat tightened. “Mom, if you go—”
“I won’t go alone,” she said quickly, almost pleading. “Jamie, please. Come with me. Just… come with me.”
The room felt suddenly too small. The air smelled like tea and fear.
I looked at Miles. His face was calm, but his eyes were asking the same question my stomach was screaming.
Could my mother survive one conversation with the person who tried to kill her?
Part 11
The prison visitation room was colder than I expected.
Not just temperature-cold. Soul-cold.
The air smelled like bleach and old metal. The walls were the color of damp concrete. Plastic chairs were bolted to the floor in neat rows, like someone had tried to organize human pain into a grid.
My mom wore her nicest cardigan, the soft blue one she used to save for church. It made me want to cry, because she looked like she was going to meet a daughter for lunch instead of facing a monster in a jumpsuit.
My dad came too, even though he swore he wouldn’t. He didn’t speak much on the drive. His jaw worked like he was grinding something invisible between his teeth.
Miles wasn’t allowed in, so he waited outside, pacing in the parking lot with his phone in his hand like a lifeline.
When Kara walked in, I almost didn’t recognize her.
No makeup. Hair pulled back. Her face looked sharper, more hollow, but her eyes were the same—bright, alert, always searching for leverage.
She sat behind the glass and picked up the phone.
My mom’s hands shook as she lifted her receiver.
For a second, nobody spoke. Just breathing. Static. The faint murmur of other families in the room, voices bouncing off hard surfaces.
Then Kara’s mouth curved into something that might’ve been a smile.
“Hi, Mom,” she said softly. “You came.”
My mom’s voice cracked immediately. “Kara… why.”
Kara blinked slowly, like she’d practiced this expression in a mirror. “I didn’t think you’d believe anyone else,” she said. “I thought if I told you, you’d understand.”
My dad’s face tightened. He lifted his phone and said, voice low and flat, “Try.”
Kara’s gaze flicked to him, irritation flashing. “I’m not here to fight with you.”
My mom’s tears slid down silently. “We almost died,” she whispered.
Kara’s expression softened, but it felt performed. “I know,” she said. “And I hate that it happened like that.”
Like that.
Like it was a messy breakup. Like it was a plan that went slightly off schedule.
I leaned forward, gripping the phone so hard my knuckles hurt. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t talk like you slipped and spilled something. You built it. You timed it. You tried to sell the house while they were unconscious.”
Kara’s eyes snapped to mine, heat flaring. “You always make it about you.”
My mom gasped softly. My dad went still, like the last thread of denial had finally snapped.
Kara exhaled, forcing calm. “Fine. You want the truth? The truth is I was tired.”
“Tired,” I echoed.
“Tired of being invisible,” she said, voice rising. “Tired of watching you float in and take the love whenever you wanted while I handled everything. Doctor appointments. Bills. Repairs. The sticky basement door. Every little thing that made this family run.”
My stomach twisted because she wasn’t entirely lying about the labor. Kara had been there more. Kara had been the one who lived closer, who picked up groceries, who knew the neighbors. Kara had also been the one who kept score.
My mom’s voice was small. “We loved you.”
Kara’s eyes flashed. “You loved your idea of me. And you kept talking about Jamie like she was the one who ‘got away.’ Like she was the one you worried about. You said it all the time, Mom. ‘Jamie’s so sensitive.’ ‘Jamie’s so stressed.’ ‘Jamie needs help.’”
My dad’s hand tightened around his receiver. “We were proud of you,” he said through clenched teeth. “We trusted you.”
Kara laughed once, sharp and ugly. “Exactly. You trusted me. And you didn’t even notice when I started disappearing.”
My mom swallowed, trembling. “Disappearing?”
Kara’s eyes flicked away for a moment, like she’d shown too much. Then she leaned in again. “Owen said it could be different,” she said. “He said we could finally start our life. The house is the only real asset, Mom. You know that. He said if anything happened to you and Dad, it would all get stuck, and Jamie would drag it out, and I’d get nothing.”
“That’s a lie,” I said, voice shaking. “You would’ve gotten half.”
Kara’s gaze sharpened. “Half isn’t enough when you’ve spent your whole life being second.”
My mom made a small sobbing sound, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Kara… we could have helped you. We could have—”
Kara’s voice snapped. “Helped me with what? With being me? With knowing I’m not the favorite?”
My dad’s voice went low and final. “You are not the victim here.”
