A Fallen Mechanic, a Missing Button, a Lie

My adoptive father's casket wasn't even closed yet when the Walton family arrived.

The black Bentley stopped at the edge of the village, splashing mud onto the funeral wreaths.

I knelt before the casket, lighting candles. The flame licked my fingertips—it hurt, but I didn't pull my hand away.

The man lying in the casket was Claude Bolton. Not only was he someone who had spent his whole life repairing electric scooters, but he was also the one who had taken me home from the entrance of the welfare home.

The day before he died, he sent me a voice message.

"Ada, I'm going to the university to get your things back for you."

The next day, he fell from the university administration building.

The university said he had been emotionally agitated.

The Walton family said that after his attempt to blackmail them failed, he jumped from the building out of shame and anger.

However, Dad was afraid of heights. When the roller shutter of his repair shop broke, he would rather wait for the neighbor to come than climb the ladder himself.

How could a man like that have walked up to the rooftop on his own?

When Lorna Pollard entered the funeral hall, her eyes were reddened just enough.

She was my biological mother, the "gentle mother" in the news who had done charity work for over a decade.

She crouched in front of me and reached out to touch my face.

"Ada, I've finally found you."

I looked at the row of small pearls on her cuff, neither dodging nor moving closer.

"What do you want with me?"

Her tears fell at once.

"I know you've suffered."

Standing behind her, Joseph Walton frowned and said, "Let's get down to business first."

He was my biological father and the chairman of Walton Group.

After entering the funeral hall, he hadn't even glanced at the casket.

Lorna took a document out of her bag. It was a statement of forgiveness.

My name, Ada Bolton, had already been written on it.

Joseph said in a deep voice, "Your sister is about to be recommended for postgraduate studies, and today is the last day of the objection period. Without this statement of forgiveness, there'll be a disciplinary note on her record. Sign it first."

Sister?

I looked up.

Gwen Walton stood behind them. She was wearing a white dress, and her eyes were as red as if she had cried all night.

She bowed toward the casket.

"Ada, I'm so sorry. I really didn't know Mr. Bolton would take it so hard."

Dad's friend, Nina Kramer, came out with a cup of water, nearly dropping the mug in her hand.

"You still have the nerve to come here? Claude died because he went to the university to confront you!"

Gwen immediately shrank behind Lorna.

Matthew Walton stepped forward.

He was my biological brother, and the person Gwen always said doted on her the most.

He shot a glance at the casket, his face etched with nothing but impatience.

"Claude just exchanged a few words with Gwen. He jumped off the building himself, so how is any of that on her?"

I slowly rose to my feet.

"What do you mean, 'exchanged a few words'?"

Matthew let out a cold laugh.

"He went to her university and demanded 500 thousand dollars right off the bat. If Gwen didn't pay up, he said he'd report her for academic misconduct. What does a mechanic know about academics anyway?"

I looked Matthew straight in the eye.

"He didn't know. I was the one who wrote the paper."

Gwen went pale in the face for a moment before breaking into tears again.

"Ada, I only borrowed a few of your interviews—must you drive me to my grave?"

Borrowed?

Two years, 37 construction sites, 196 questionnaires, 26 interviews on workplace injury claims—things Dad and I had gathered riding from place to place on a beat-up electric scooter.

All that work and yet, Gwen had reduced what she did to simply "borrowing".

Lorna took my hand and said, "Ada, Gwen already knows she was wrong. Claude is gone. Don't ruin Gwen's life too."

I stared at her and asked, "Then who's going to give me back my dad?"

Lorna sobbed even harder. "I'll make it up to you. A house, a car, money, a student enrollment—I'll give you anything you want."

Joseph pressed the pen into my palm.

"Sign it, and let Claude be laid to rest today. After that, come back to the family."

I looked down at the statement of forgiveness.

"Claude Bolton took his own life due to personal reasons. Gwen Walton did not engage in any insult, threat, or coercion. I, the undersigned, voluntarily withdraw all complaints."

I lifted my head slowly.

"I'm not signing it."

Matthew's face darkened.

"Ada, don't push your luck. If you really were a good daughter, you wouldn't let the dead stand in the way of the living."

The candle flame let out a sharp pop, and the wick snapped in two.

The funeral dirge outside stopped at that moment too.

A man in blue coveralls stood at the entrance, holding a cardboard box.

"Who's Ada Bolton? Mr. Bolton left a box of things at our repair shop. He said if anything ever happened to him, it should go to his daughter."

Gwen stopped crying, the color draining from her face bit by bit.