PART 8 — THE TRUTH BETWEEN A MOTHER AND HER SON
The name remained on the screen.
Gareth Holloway.
My son.
The boy I carried.
The boy I protected.
The boy I believed would always stand beside me.
For several minutes, I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t speak.
Because there are some wounds that don’t come from enemies.
They come from the people you never thought you would need protection from.
Gareth stared at the screen.
His face had lost all color.
“Mom…”
I didn’t answer.
Not because I hated him.
Not because I had already decided he was guilty.
But because my heart was fighting with my mind.
My heart remembered the little boy who used to hold my hand crossing the street.
My mind remembered the signature on the document.
The power of attorney.
The plan.
The lies.
“Explain,” I finally whispered.
Gareth shook his head.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Your name is there.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“But I didn’t do this.”
I looked at him.
“Then why did Franklin write your name?”
He had no answer.
And that was the hardest part.
Because silence can sometimes look like guilt.
Gareth sat down.
“I need to tell you something.”
I remained standing.
“What?”
He looked at the floor.
“When Dad died, Sandra told me something.”
My heart tightened.
“What did she tell you?”
“She said Dad had left instructions.”
“Instructions about what?”
Gareth hesitated.
“About the house.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Go on.”
“She told me Dad wanted me to help manage everything because you were too emotional after losing him.”
Those words hurt.
Because they sounded exactly like the way Sandra had treated me.
As if grief had made me incapable.
As if losing my husband also meant losing my ability to make decisions.
“Did you believe her?”
Gareth closed his eyes.
“At the time…”
He stopped.
I waited.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
But at least it was honest.
“I thought she was protecting you.”
“And later?”
He looked at me.
“Later, I started seeing things that didn’t make sense.”
“Like what?”
“The documents.”
“The meetings.”
“The way she talked about the house.”
He swallowed.
“She didn’t talk about it like it was your home.”
A pause.
“She talked about it like it was an asset.”
I sat down slowly.
Because now I understood something.
Gareth may have been part of the plan.
But maybe he wasn’t the person who created it.
Maybe he was another person being used.
Just like Franklin’s warning had said.
The danger wasn’t always the person holding the knife.
Sometimes it was the person being guided by someone else.
I looked at the screen again.
The file.
The warning.
The name.
“Why would your father leave this message with your name?”
Gareth looked toward the laptop.
“I don’t know.”
Then he suddenly stood.
“Wait.”
“What?”
He walked closer to the screen.
“Mom, look at the date.”
I looked.
The document was created three months before Franklin died.
Before Sandra’s plan started.
Before the power of attorney.
Before the house issues.
Gareth whispered:
“Dad knew something was going to happen.”
I felt a chill.
Because Franklin wasn’t reacting.
He was predicting.
He had seen something coming.
But then why blame Gareth?
Unless…
Unless Franklin believed Gareth would eventually become involved.
Not because he wanted to hurt me.
But because someone would manipulate him.
I opened another hidden file.
This one was titled:
“IF GARETH CHOOSES THE WRONG PATH.”
My hands trembled.
I clicked.
Franklin appeared again.
This time, his expression was more serious.
“Lindsey.”
“If you are seeing this message, then Gareth has reached a point where he must make a choice.”
I looked at my son.
He looked terrified.
Franklin continued.
“My son is not a bad person.”
I froze.
“He is someone who wants to make people happy.”
Gareth lowered his head.
“And that weakness can be dangerous when the wrong person learns how to use it.”
Tears filled my eyes.
Because Franklin understood his son.
He understood both of us.
The video continued.
“Gareth may sign things he doesn’t understand.”
“He may repeat things he was told.”
“He may believe he is helping.”
A pause.
“But Lindsey…”
Franklin looked directly into the camera.
“If he ever chooses money over you…”
The video stopped.
I stared at the frozen screen.
The sentence was incomplete.
The message had been cut off.
“Why did it stop?”
Gareth checked the file.
“It’s corrupted.”
I looked at him.
“Or someone deleted the rest.”
Neither of us spoke.
Because suddenly, the truth was even more complicated.
Gareth wasn’t simply a betrayer.
He was someone caught between loyalty, fear, and manipulation.
But there was still one question.
Who had the power to influence him for so long?
Who knew exactly what buttons to push?
Who had been planning this from the beginning?
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Again.
I answered.
A familiar voice spoke.
Not Sandra.
Not Daniel.
Someone else.
Someone who had been silent throughout everything.
“Lindsey.”
My heart stopped.
Because I knew that voice.
The person I trusted.
The person Franklin warned me about.
The person who had been standing in the background all along.
“I think it’s time you learned what really happened before Franklin died.”
I couldn’t speak.
The voice continued:
“Because your husband didn’t leave you a warning about Gareth.”
A pause.
“He left you a warning about me.”
The call ended.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Gareth looked at me.
“Who was it?”
I stared at the dark screen.
Because for the first time, I understood something.
The house.
The documents.
The power of attorney.
All of it was only a small part of a much bigger plan.
And the person behind everything…
Had just revealed themselves.
But the biggest question remained:
Why had Franklin spent his final months protecting me from someone I loved?
