Grief and fury warred across Victor's face. First his wife, now his son—the double blow was too much. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
When he came to, he wept until no sound would come.
Later, I received a text from Corey—sent from a number I didn't recognize.
"How are my parents?"
"You didn't tell them the truth, did you?"
I smiled to myself and typed back: "Did exactly what you asked."
"That's my girl. Keep covering for me."
"Something happened at home. Don't you want to come back?"
"I'm busy. Whatever it is, don't bother me."
"Just handle it."
I sent another message.
Silence. Again.
Go ahead, Corey. Keep playing house with your little schoolmate.
A cold smile tugged at my lips.
After that, we stopped communicating entirely.
I only caught glimpses of his life through the videos she posted—the two of them having the time of their lives.
As for home...
Victor was a shell of himself after leaving the hospital. He wandered the house muttering to himself, lost in some private torment. It was obvious he was teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown.
Then one day, he called me to his room.
He pressed a sealed envelope into my hands, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. "Ann... I can't hold on much longer. I'm afraid I'll lose my mind completely. Before that happens—take this. It's everything the Henson family owns."
