Chapter 4

The next morning, I wore my mourning clothes to the university.

The Walton family had prepared a brightly colored dress for me, and Lorna personally handed it to me.

"Ada, today is a special occasion—don't dress like you're here to collect a debt."

I looked down at my black dress and said, "I am here to collect a debt."

Matthew turned around from the front seat, staring at me coldly.

"If this doesn't get settled today, don't expect Claude to be buried in peace."

Gwen was seated beside Lorna. She hadn't put on any makeup today, and her eyes were as red as if she had cried all night.

When she saw me looking at her, she immediately lowered her head.

"Ada, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

No one in the car responded to her because everyone knew those words weren't meant for me. Instead, they were meant for them.

The hearing was held on the third floor of the administration building.

The moment I got out of the car, I saw Gwen's photo plastered right in the center of the display board.

"Outstanding Graduate. Postgraduate Recommendation Candidate. Statewide Innovation Project Lead."

When Gwen saw that photo, her tears started flowing again.

"Ada, I worked so hard to get where I am today. I can't just let it all be destroyed."

I looked at her and retorted, "My dad worked just as hard to raise me. And now he's dead."

Her sobs caught in her throat.

Matthew gripped my arm and said, "Once you're in there, just read from the script. After that, sign the statement of forgiveness, and Claude can be buried this afternoon."

"And what if I don't read it?" I asked.

He bent his head toward me. "Then we drag it out. We're not the ones who'll look bad if the body lies there any longer."

The conference room was packed with university administrators, faculty from the disciplinary committee, academic advisors, and a few student representatives.

The moment Gwen walked in, people immediately murmured words of comfort to her.

"Gwen, don't be afraid. We all believe you. What does it have to do with you if that mechanic chose to end his own life?"

I stood at the doorway, listening to them toss around "that mechanic" like it was nothing.

Suddenly, I remembered how Ms. Kramer had straightened Dad's collar at the funeral home last night and said through tears, "Claude never had many nice clothes in his life. Even this outfit was something Ada bought for him."

The university's deputy secretary, Leslie Rowe, spoke first.

"Ada, the university is holding a hearing today regarding your complaint about Gwen's academic misconduct and the death of your adoptive father, Mr. Claude Bolton. As the family member of the deceased, is there anything you'd like to add?"

Joseph slid the statement in front of me.

"I, Ada Bolton, confirm that my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, suffered from long-term mental instability. Prior to his death, he demanded 500 thousand dollars from Gwen and became emotionally unstable after she refused. His death was an individual act of extremism and had nothing to do with Gwen. I voluntarily withdraw my complaint against Gwen."

My fingers slowly curled into a fist.

Lorna looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Ada, just read it. After you do, Mommy will go with you to see Claude off."

It was the first time she had ever called herself "Mommy" so gently, yet it was only to make me brand Dad as a money-crazed lunatic with my own mouth.

Gwen stood up and bowed deeply to me.

"Ada, I'm sorry. But Mr. Bolton really did ask me for money. If I had known he would jump, I would have never provoked him."

Matthew steadied her and shot me a cutting look.

"Gwen has already humbled herself—how much more do you want to push her?"

Someone in the conference room sighed.

"Gwen's had it rough too. It's really unlucky for her to be stuck with a family like that."

I looked down at the statement.

Dad was barely literate. In fact, he could barely even use a smartphone.

Every time he messaged me, it was always a voice note.

"Ada, have you eaten?"

"Ada, do you have enough money?"

"Ada, I fixed three scooters today and made 280 dollars."

And yet, they claimed a man like that had typed out a blackmail demand for 500 thousand dollars?

I picked up the statement. Everyone in the Walton family fixed their eyes on me, and Gwen had stopped crying.

I began, "I, Ada Bolton, confirm that my adoptive father, Claude Bolton—"

I stopped.

Matthew stood behind me, his hand pressing down on my shoulder with gradually increasing force.

"Read it."

My phone suddenly rang, but Matthew snatched it out of my hand.

"Turn it off."

I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. It was Ms. Kramer.

I shot to my feet and said, "Give it back to me."

The disciplinary committee officer, Robin Glover, frowned and said, "Mr. Walton, give her the phone."

Matthew reluctantly let go.

I pressed answer, and Ms. Kramer's sobs burst through the speaker.

"Ada, come back quick! The Walton family sent people to take your father away!"

I froze on the spot.

"Where are they taking him?"

"The crematorium! They said you agreed, that you signed the papers, and that he'd be cremated this morning! We couldn't stop them!"

I whipped my head toward Joseph. There wasn't a trace of surprise on his face.

Lorna lowered her head, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag tightly.

Matthew said coldly, "The body has to be dealt with sooner or later. You keep dragging your feet on signing—were you just going to let him rot in that funeral hall?"

A deafening buzz exploded in my ears.

It wasn't Dad's peace they cared about. What scared them was the thought of him lying there too peacefully, still able to wait for an autopsy and leave evidence behind.

Clutching the phone, I asked in a trembling voice, "Who signed it?"

Chaos erupted on the other end of the line.

Then, a strange man's voice came through.

"Ms. Bolton? I'm the mortician from the funeral home. Your father's body cannot be cremated."

Matthew's expression changed instantly. He reached for the phone, but I stepped back and turned on the speaker.

The mortician's voice echoed through the conference room.

"While identifying the body, we found that the deceased had something clutched in his right hand. During the transfer, his fingers loosened and a button fell out.

"There were also visible scratches and grab marks on the back of his neck and wrists. The specifics will need to be determined by a forensic examiner, but I suggest you call the police immediately and request that the body be preserved."

Joseph shot to his feet.

"This is ridiculous! What gives a mortician the right to spout such nonsense?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"I'm not making any judgments. I'm simply telling the family of the deceased that the button clutched in her father's hand may be very important."

"What kind of button is it?" I asked emphatically.

"A pearl button," the mortician replied.

The bag in Lorna's hand dropped to the floor with a thud. The sound was faint, yet it landed like a blow on everyone's eardrums.

I slowly turned my head to look at her.

She was wearing a black suit today.

On the right cuff, where the last pearl button should have been, there was now an ordinary white button sewn in its place.

The stitching was fresh, as if it had been mended just last night.

On the other end of the line, the mortician added in a low voice, "There's one more thing. Under that button was half a sheet of paper soaked through with blood. Only one word was legible—'paternity'."

The conference room fell deathly silent.

I stared at the newly sewn white button on Lorna's cuff for a very long time—so long that Gwen began to tremble, the color completely drained from Matthew's face, and the door to the conference room was pushed open from the outside.

Two uniformed officers stood at the doorway.

One of them turned to me and asked, "Are you Ada Bolton? We've received a follow-up on the incident report you previously filed."

I looked down at the statement on the table—the one the Walton family had wanted me to read. Then, I picked it up and tore it into pieces.

The scraps of paper fell to the ground, like the candle wax from the last bundle of candles I had burned for Dad.

After that, I raised my head and looked at Lorna.

"Mom."

It was the first time I had ever called her that.

Her whole body jolted, and tears spilled down her face in an instant.

"Did you already know I was your daughter?" I asked.