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“Stac…she knew,” Monica says, softly. “She knew what she was. I got a hold of Baker himself to find out what’s not in the records. He said when he brought up the blood test results…she flipped out. Apparently she threatened to kill his wife and baby if he told anyone. Said—and I’m quoting him—‘shegrowledlike a goddamn beast and showed me herfangs.’”

“She threatened him to keep him quiet,” I mutter, horror creeping up my spine like cold fingers. “So he’d pretend he was helping her, even though he wasn’t. Couldn’t.”

“He was scared out of his mind. He only talked to me because I begged—and because I swore I’d never say a word.”

Silence thickens around us—heavy and suffocating, like syrup in my lungs.

“I knew it…” Ray’s voice slices through the haze. He’s behind me before I register he’s entered. “I knew she didn’t die of cancer. Not that young.”

“Yeah,” Monica says softly. “You were right. It wasn’t cancer. It was heartbreak. Literally.”

I slam my fists onto the table, teeth gritted. “I want a word with my father.”

“I don’t blame you,” Monica says. Her anger dims into something colder. “He didn’t just leave her. He killed her.”

“Where does he live?” Ray asks before I move.

“Brooklyn,” I snap. “I’ll be back by tomorrow morning.”

Ray plants himself in front of me.

“No way you’re going alone. I’m coming.”

“No. This is mine,” I growl, stepping up to him.

“You’ll still get to face him,” he says, absolutely calm against the rage pulsing in my head. “I’m only the ride. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Stac.”

I stare at him. “Ray… you just lost?—”

“I know what I lost,” he barks. “I see it. Feel it. Every damn second. Let me do this. I need to breathe. Just for a bit.”

I exhale, sharp and fast. “Fine. But you don’t interfere. This is between me and him.”

“I promise,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over my chin. That touch—it’s his anchor. Gentle. Steadying. And it breaks something loose in my chest I’m not ready to face.

“Thank you, Mon,” I say, sparing her one last glance. She nods, and I head for the door.

I’ve got unfinished business. And it sure as hell doesn’t involve Monica.

It involves the man who left a ticking time bomb in my mother’s chest and walked away like she meant nothing.

Larry Melvin.

Ray and I hit the road, the mountains shrinking behind us like ghosts fading into the rearview. The rage inside me burns hot and sharp, coiled beneath my skin like wire, but even through the fury, I feel him—quiet, steady, haunted.

Grief clings to Ray like smoke. I see it in the rigid line of his jaw, the way his hands grip the wheel too tight. In the silence between us, his pain speaks louder than words. Sam’s death is carved into him. It mirrors the hollow ache I carry in my own chest.

Still… he’s here. Driving me toward the confrontation I can’t avoid. Toward a truth sharp enough to cut bone. I told him not to come. That this was mine. My fight. But Ray didn’t flinch. He’s not here for closure or vengeance. He’s here because this is who he is—loyal, unwavering, willing to shoulder weight that isn’t his, just to keep me from breaking under it.

And God, I wish I could say something. Reach for his hand. Let him know how much that means. But I can’t. Not yet.

My heart is scorched earth. There’s no space for tenderness, no safety in softness. Not until I look the man who abandoned my mother in the eye.

Not until I burn him down to the truth.

20

STACY