I stopped pacing, staring at her. “And now? What does this have to do with prom? With letting me go with him?”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m afraid this will all come out. That someone will find out the truth. And I need to protect… everything.”
A sudden, chilling thought struck me. “Protect what, Mom? Protect *Noah*? Or protect *Dad’s* reputation?”
Mom flinched at my question, her gaze dropping to her lap. She didn't answer. The silence was a resounding indictment.
Unraveling the Past
“So, you want me to keep his secret?” I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “You want me to go to prom with my… cousin, and pretend everything is normal, while knowing that his entire life is based on a lie?”
“It’s not a lie, Mia! It’s… a carefully constructed reality. A way to give Noah a good life.” Mom’s voice was desperate now, pleading. “He's a wonderful boy. He deserves happiness. Please, Mia. Just one night. Just get through prom. And then… then we can figure things out.”
“Figure things out?” I scoffed. “What is there to figure out? You’ve been living a lie for eighteen years! And now you expect me to perpetuate it?”
I stood up, grabbing my purse. “I need to get some air.”
“Mia, please, don’t go!” Mom begged, reaching for my arm. “Don’t talk to anyone about this. Especially your father.”
“Why?” I challenged, pulling away. “Is he going to try and silence me too?”
Mom’s face paled. “He… he wouldn’t understand. He'd be furious.”
I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me. My head was reeling. I needed to talk to someone. Someone I trusted.
I found myself walking towards the baseball field. It was where Noah and I spent countless hours, even though I still didn't really understand the game. He was probably there, practicing. He always practiced.
As I approached, I saw him, alone, meticulously arranging baseballs on the pitcher’s mound. He looked… peaceful.
But then, I noticed a figure standing in the shadows, watching him. A man. A man I recognized. It was Mr. Henderson, my father’s lawyer. And he was speaking on his phone, his voice low and urgent. I couldn't make out the words, but the way he kept glancing at Noah sent a shiver down my spine.
I ducked behind a large oak tree, my heart pounding. What was Mr. Henderson doing here? Was my father involved in something more than just protecting his reputation?
A Dangerous Game
I strained to hear the conversation, inching closer to the baseball field. “…ensure discretion… the agreement… absolutely no complications…” Mr. Henderson was saying into the phone. “The boy must remain… content.”
Content? What did that even mean? Was my father paying Noah off? Controlling him somehow?
Suddenly, Mr. Henderson ended the call and approached Noah. He spoke to him briefly, then handed him a small, sealed envelope. Noah’s face lit up. He thanked Mr. Henderson profusely, then carefully tucked the envelope into his pocket.
I felt a surge of anger. What was in that envelope? Was it money? Was it a threat? I had to find out.