It’s late when I hear Liam’s door close. I lie still in bed, counting his footsteps as they fade down the hallway. He’s been doing this every night since he came back.. slipping out quietly, like he’s trying to avoid waking ghosts. He thinks I don’t notice, but I do.

I get up, curiosity gnawing at me, and tiptoe out of my room. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I end up in the attic. It’s a mess up here.. dusty boxes and forgotten memories piled on top of each other, each one a reminder of what used to be.

I’m not even sure why I’m here, but something pulls me toward an old chest tucked away in the corner. It’s one of those heavy, wooden trunks, the kind you see in movies holding buried treasure. Only this one holds nothing but the past.

I push the lid open, and the smell of old paper and mothballs fills the air. Inside are random things: old photo albums, Dad’s college trophies, some of Mom’s letters tied with a red ribbon. I’m about to close it when I spot a small leather-bound notebook buried under a pile of loose papers.

It’s worn, the edges frayed, like it’s been handled too many times.

I flip it open, and the first page stops me cold.

Property of Alex Carter.

My breath catches in my throat. What is his journal doing here? I shouldn’t read it.. it feels wrong, like trespassing in someone’s mind. But my fingers move on their own, turning the pages.

Most of it is what you’d expect.. notes about school, basketball strategies, a few doodles. But then, halfway through, the tone changes. The writing becomes darker, more frantic. My heart races as I read entry after entry until I hit the one that makes my blood run cold.

I saw them today. Mom and Mr. Carter. Together. They don’t even hide it anymore. If Liam ever finds out…

The writing trails off, the words scribbled like Alex was too angry to continue.

I feel my hands start to tremble. Mr. Carter.. Alex’s dad.. was having an affair with *our* mom?

I flip through more pages, my eyes scanning faster now. It gets worse.

Alex knew everything. He talks about how their affair wasn’t some brief fling, but something that went on for years. How he confronted his dad about it, and how his dad denied it at first, but then warned Alex to stay out of it.

And then I find the last entry:

She said they’re ending it. Mom was crying. But she’s not the type to just let things go. There’s something off about her lately. She said I need to “keep my mouth shut” if I know what’s good for me. But I can’t. I can’t let them keep ruining everything. If anything happens to me, it’ll be because of her.

My heart is pounding in my ears.

I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Is this what Liam’s been hiding? Has he known all along that our step mom was involved in something this twisted?

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.. Liam didn’t leave because of Alex’s death. He left because he knew our mother had something to do with it.

I slam the journal shut, my mind racing in a hundred directions. I need to talk to Liam, but what do I even say?

How do I tell him I found this, that I’ve been living in ignorance while he’s been carrying this burden alone?

My hands are still shaking as I tuck the journal under my arm and head back downstairs.

When I reach Liam’s room, I hesitate.

I should wait until morning, until I’ve figured out how to even bring this up. But something pushes me to knock on his door.

There’s no response, so I push it open and step inside.

His room is dark except for the faint glow of the moon through the window. And that’s when I see it.. on his desk, neatly spread out like a case file, are photos, notes, and documents.

All of them pointing to one person.. Caroline Hayes.

She's our stepmother but we call her mom, our birth mum died two years after she gave birth to me. After raising us for years, our father remarried just three years ago.

He didn't even live long enough to know the kind of cold woman he had brought home to be our mother, he died in an accident just a few months after he married her.

I take a shaky step back, feeling like the ground is falling out from under me.

Liam’s been piecing this together for who knows how long. And here I am, stumbling upon it like a clueless fool.

It’s all connected.. Alex’s journal, the affair, and our mother’s role in it all.

Liam’s words from earlier echo in my head.. “I have unfinished business.”

Now I know what that business is. But where do we go from here?

The next morning, I barely got any sleep.

My mind keeps spinning around everything I found in the attic.. the journal, the secrets, and the truth I never wanted to face.

I sit at the kitchen table, clutching my coffee like it’s the only thing grounding me in reality. Liam walks in, looking as tired as I feel. He glances at me, then at the journal sitting on the table between us.

“You found it.” His voice is cold, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.. maybe anger, maybe relief. I can’t tell.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Liam? About… everything?” My voice shakes, but I don’t care. I need answers.

He takes a seat across from me, leaning back with a sigh. “Because you wouldn’t have believed me. You were always blind to her. Mom could do no wrong in your eyes.”

“That’s not fair!” I snap, but deep down, I know he’s right. I never saw Mom the way he did. I never questioned the things she did, the way she manipulated people. I was too caught up in trying to hold the family together to notice the cracks.

Liam runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched into his features. “I’ve been piecing this together for months, Maya. Ever since Alex died. I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t prove it. Not until I found that journal and started connecting the dots.”

I swallow hard, guilt clawing at me. “And you were going to handle all of this on your own?”

He scoffs. “You think I *wanted* to handle this alone? I didn’t have a choice. You weren’t ready to face the truth. And honestly, I didn’t trust you to help me. Not when it comes to *her*.”

The bitterness in his voice stings, but I can’t blame him. I’ve been avoiding the truth for so long, pretending that things would somehow fix themselves. But now, I can’t ignore it. Not after what I’ve read.

“We need to do something, Liam. We can’t let her get away with this.”

He’s quiet for a moment, studying me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. Finally, he nods. “I’ve been working on that. But we can’t go to the police yet. We need more than just suspicions and a journal. We need solid evidence.”

I hesitate, then ask the question that’s been nagging at me. “How are we supposed to get that evidence? It’s not like we’re detectives.”

Liam leans forward, lowering his voice. “We’re not. But I know someone who is.”

I blink in surprise. “Who?”

“Uncle Jack.”

Uncle Jack. The name alone sends a wave of relief and anxiety through me.

He’s not actually our uncle, just a close family friend who used to be a detective before he retired. He’s always been rough around the edges, but he’s the kind of guy who gets things done. I haven’t seen him in years, but if there’s anyone who can help us, it’s him.

“You think he’ll help?” I ask.

Liam shrugs. “If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t sit back and do nothing. He’s always hated Mom’s manipulative ways, even if he never said it outright.”

I nod slowly, realizing that we might actually stand a chance with Uncle Jack’s help. But there’s still a lingering doubt in my mind. “What if he doesn’t believe us? We don’t have much to go on.”

“We have enough to get him interested,” Liam says confidently. “We just need to show him the journal and explain what we’ve found so far. If anyone can dig up the dirt we need, it’s him.”

There’s a tense silence as we both sit there, the weight of what we’re planning sinking in. We’re talking about exposing our mother for being involved in a murder. It’s not just some teenage rebellion or family drama.. This is serious.

If we go through with this, there’s no turning back.

“Okay,” I say, my voice steadying. “Let’s talk to him.”

Liam looks at me, really looks at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time in a long time. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Maya? Once we start, there’s no backing out.”

I meet his gaze, and for the first time in years, I feel a spark of the connection we used to have. “I’m sure. I’m not going to let you carry this burden alone anymore.”

He gives a small nod, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Good. We’ll meet with him tonight.”

As he gets up to leave, I feel a strange mix of fear and determination settle in my chest.

We’re about to take on something much bigger than either of us.

But for the first time in two years, I feel like maybe.. just maybe.. we’re not as broken as I thought.

Because this time, we’re in this together.

By evening, we’re on our way to Uncle Jack’s place, a small, run-down house on the outskirts of town. Liam drives in silence, his jaw clenched as if preparing himself for whatever lies ahead.

My heart races with every passing mile, the reality of what we’re about to do sinking deeper into my bones.

Exposing Mom is one thing, but involving Uncle Jack means we’re crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

When we pull up to the house, memories flood back.. barbecues in the backyard, stories around the fire pit, Uncle Jack teaching us how to catch fireflies.

But now, there’s a chill in the air as we walk up the cracked stone path to his door.

Liam knocks, and within moments, the door swings open. Uncle Jack stands there, looking older than I remember. His graying beard and tired eyes tell me that retirement hasn’t been kind to him.

But when he sees us, a spark of recognition lights up his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the Hayes kids,” he says in that gruff voice of his. “Didn’t expect to see you two here together.” He steps aside, motioning us in. “Come on in. It’s been too long.”

We follow him into the living room, where the familiar smell of tobacco and old leather lingers in the air. Jack takes a seat in his worn-out recliner, gesturing for us to sit across from him. There’s a moment of awkward silence as we settle in, each of us trying to find the right words.

“So, what brings you here after all this time?” Jack finally asks, his sharp eyes flicking between us.

Liam doesn’t waste any time. He pulls out Alex’s journal from his jacket and hands it to Jack. “We need your help, Uncle Jack. It’s about Alex.”

Jack’s face hardens as he takes the journal. “I heard about what happened to that boy. Tragic stuff.” He opens the journal, skimming through the pages. As he reads, his expression shifts from curiosity to something darker.

When he finishes, he looks up at us, all traces of warmth gone.

“Are you two serious about this?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You’re accusing your own mother of being involved in a murder.”

Liam nods firmly. “We’re serious. We have reason to believe she was involved in Alex’s death, and we need your help to prove it.”