My Family Chose Her And Lost Me Forever Chapter 05
Dad’s hand was shaking on the phone.
“What do you mean, something’s turned up?”
“We pulled the original inspection logs. Your safety walk that morning was fully compliant, Mr. Mercer. There were no gaps. No omissions.”
Dad went still.
“That can’t be right. That morning was my walk — I—”
“Mr. Mercer. The accident wasn’t your fault. Not in any way..”
The hallway was silent for half a minute.
Dad leaned his shoulder against the wall, gripping the phone, jaw clenched.
“Then how did he—”
“That’s what we’re still working on. But we can tell you today: you don’t bear any responsibility for it.”
Dad’s mouth opened and nothing came out.
Seven years. Seven years he’d carried it.
“Dad? Who was that?”
Ryan came out of Lily’s dorm onto the landing. Saw Dad’s face and stopped.
Dad slid the phone into his pocket.
“Police. They said the accident — that morning wasn’t on me. My inspection was clean.”
Ryan stared at him.
“Then how did Daniel—”
“They’re still working on it.”
Mom came out with a curtain hook in her hand.
“What are you two doing out here? Lily’s curtains still need—”
“Mom.”
Ryan cut her off. “The Bennett thing. Wasn’t Dad’s fault. Police just called.”
Her hand went slack. The hook pinged off the floor.
“That’s not — that isn’t — what do they mean, not—”
Then Dad, suddenly: “Anna. Where’s Anna? Has she messaged?”
Mom pulled out her phone. Her face went white.
“She’s — she’s blocked me.”
The three of them stared at each other. Dad turned and was already going for the stairs.
“Home. Now.”
Lily came out of the dorm room with a fresh set of bedding in her arms.
“Where are you going? What about my bed?”
Ryan’s voice was tight. “Make it yourself. We have to go home. Anna’s gone.”
Something flickered across Lily’s face before her expression softened.
“Oh — I mean — maybe she just, you know, ran off in a huff?”
She bit her lip.
“She’s done it before, right? A little dramatic — trying to make everyone worry so she gets some attention? Maybe it’s just one of those?”
Ryan was quiet for a beat.
“…Lily’s got a point. Anna’s always been like this. Ignore her for a couple of days. She’ll come around.”
Mom wavered. “But she blocked all of—”
“Sulking,” Ryan said.
Lily added, very small: “I don’t want to overstep — I just — if we all go running the second she does this, aren’t we teaching her that it works?”
Dad said nothing.
In his head, one sentence, over and over.
The accident wasn’t your fault.
Seven years. For a debt that hadn’t existed. He’d put his own daughter in a mudroom.
The old debt might have been a lie.
But the one he owed her now was real.