Chapter 6: The Confrontation

Ava woke before dawn, her body restless, her mind refusing peace. The photograph lay on her nightstand, turned face-down, but she didn’t need to see it to know the image burned behind her eyelids: her mother, smiling with a man Ava didn’t recognize, holding a baby that couldn’t have been anyone but her.

The letters had warned her—someone she loved was lying. Now she knew.

She just didn’t know why.

At breakfast, her mom moved around the kitchen with forced cheer, humming to the radio. Rick scrolled on his phone, muttering about work. Ava pushed her cereal around her bowl, appetite gone. The urge to demand answers swelled inside her, but the letters’ warnings coiled around her like chains. If you expose them, you’ll lose him.

Her eyes flicked to Rick, then to her mom. Which “him” did the letter mean? Eli? Rick? Someone else entirely?

She stood abruptly. “I’m leaving early.”

Her mom blinked, spoon paused midair. “You’ll miss breakfast—”

“I’m not hungry.” Ava grabbed her bag and slipped out the door before her voice cracked.

Outside, Eli waited at the corner as always. His grin faltered when he saw her expression. “Rough morning?”

“You could say that.”

He walked beside her in silence for a few blocks before speaking again. “You’re keeping something from me.”

Ava’s heart stumbled. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His tone was gentle, but his eyes searched hers with an intensity that made her chest ache. “You’ve been… different. Ever since the shortcut thing. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

She swallowed hard, words pressing at the back of her throat. She wanted to tell him everything, to spill the letters into his hands and beg him to believe her. But the warning screamed in her memory: If you expose them, you’ll lose him.

So she forced a laugh. “You’re imagining things.”

Eli’s frown deepened, but he let it drop. For now.

–––

By afternoon, Ava couldn’t take it anymore. The secrets pressed in on her, suffocating. When the final bell rang, she slipped away instead of meeting Eli. Her feet carried her home on instinct, toward the study, toward the photo she couldn’t stop thinking about.

The room greeted her like a crime scene, sunlight slanting across the desk where she’d found the envelope the night before. Her hands shook as she opened drawers, rifled through papers. Bills. Receipts. A cracked leather journal. Nothing that explained the photo.

Until she noticed the bottom drawer. Locked.

Her pulse spiked. She remembered the small key she’d glimpsed weeks ago in her mom’s dresser. She bolted upstairs, tore through the drawer until her fingers closed around the cold metal.

Back in the study, the key slid into the lock with a soft click. The drawer creaked open.

Inside lay a stack of letters.

Not bills. Not old mail. Letters.

Her breath caught. The paper was the same heavy stock as the ones delivered to her door. Her name written in the same looping hand. But these were unopened. Dozens of them.

Her stomach turned.

Footsteps creaked on the stairs. Ava froze, heart hammering.

“Ava?” Her mom’s voice.

She slammed the drawer shut, but it was too late. Her mom appeared in the doorway, eyes locking onto the key in Ava’s trembling hand.

“What are you doing in here?” The words were sharp, stripped of warmth.

Ava’s throat tightened. “You’ve been hiding them.”

Her mom’s eyes flicked to the drawer, then back to Ava. For a moment, her face crumpled with something like guilt, but it was gone in an instant. “You shouldn’t be snooping.”

“They’re the same letters!” Ava’s voice cracked. “The ones I’ve been getting—they’re here too! You knew. You knew all along, and you lied to me.”

Her mom stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Ava, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” Ava demanded, tears burning hot behind her eyes. “Tell me the truth for once.”

Her mom hesitated, jaw tight. “Some truths are dangerous. You’re not ready—”

“Not ready?” Ava’s laugh was brittle, desperate. “I watched a gas station explode because of these letters! I’m living in fear every second of the day because of them! And you’re telling me I’m not ready?”

Her mom’s face paled, but before she could answer, a knock rattled the front door. Both of them froze.

The knock came again. Three sharp raps.

Ava’s blood ran cold. She knew that rhythm. The same cadence as her heart had when she read the word RUN.

Her mom’s eyes widened. “Stay here.” She moved toward the hallway.

But Ava couldn’t. Her legs carried her after her mom, down the stairs, toward the door.

Through the frosted glass, a tall shadow waited.

Her mom turned sharply. “Go upstairs, Ava. Now.”

“No,” Ava whispered, voice shaking. “Not until you tell me the truth.”

The shadow shifted outside. Another envelope slid under the door, landing at their feet.

Ava stared at it, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Her mom bent to pick it up, but Ava was faster. She snatched it from the floor and tore it open.

The message inside was short, scrawled in the same elegant hand:

You cannot trust her. Tonight, choose: truth or loyalty. You can’t have both.

Ava’s gaze snapped to her mom, who stood frozen, color drained from her face.

The confrontation had begun.