Imogene Scott I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I drive through the light morning traffic. Lily’s drop-off went smoothly enough, though her insistence on showing me her latest drawing in the car had nearly made us late. Seel’s Café comes into view. It’s small, rustic sign is swinging slightly in the breeze as usual. I park across the street, grab my purse from the passenger seat, and head inside. I’m meeting Dad here and apparently it’s very urgent. After his call last night, I wondered what it could be about. He hardly calls me without a solid reason. He’s so engulfed in his life with Lila. Not that it means anything to me, I’m happy they’re happy. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods envelops me the moment I step in. I glance around, my eyes landing on the window seat. Dad’s favorite spot. It’s empty. Sliding into the chair, I order a cup of warm milk from the barista. “No sugar, please,” I add with a small smile, then settle in to wait. I
Damien Shaw I don’t thing I’ve ever had such a shitty day in a while. It’s driving me crazy.I lean back in my chair, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. The day has been a complete disaster. The product launch—the one project we’ve poured millions into, the one that was supposed to solidify IMU’s dominance in the market—has backfired. Financial losses looming. My head pounds, and I rub my temples, trying to stave off the dull ache that’s been building since morning. The faint sound of heels clicking against the polished floor outside pulls me back. Kia steps in. She’s been working with me for months already and she’s been doing her job so diligently. She holds a tablet in one hand and a folder in the other. “The investors are all in the boardroom,” she says.I sit up straight, narrowing my eyes. “I didn’t call any meeting.” “They did,” she says, shifting her weight slightly. “It looks like they’ve been talking to each other behind the scenes.” A wave of frustration washes
Imogene Scott After dinner that night, I put Lily to bed and read her a bedtime story. As soon as she falls asleep, I go back to our bedroom. Damien seemed a little off during dinner. Like he had something on his chest he didn’t want to get out. It bothers me. As I walk down the hallway, my phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the quiet. I glance at the screen: Dad. “Hello?” I answer, keeping my voice low.“Imogene,” my father says. “Hi, Dad.” I lean against the wall, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “How are you?” “I’m fine. How are you? And how are the twins?” “They’re good,” I say. There’s a pause, the kind that makes me press my lips together, bracing for whatever excuse he’s about to give. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today,” he says. “Something important came up at work.” “It’s fine,” I reply automatically.“Can we meet tomorrow instead? Same café?” I glance down the hall toward the bedroom, where a faint sliver of light glows beneath the door. “Sure.
Imogene Scott The next day, I meet Dad at the cafe again. I just hope he shows up this time. I push open the door to the café. I pause just inside, glancing around the cozy space. Dad is already seated at his usual table by the window. I sigh, he really showed up. Early, at that.He’s reading the newspaper, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. For a moment, I study him from a distance—the way he’s dressed impeccably in a dark suit, his hair silver but neatly combed, his posture as straight as ever. The last time I saw him was at the wedding in Hong Kong. I only told him about the twins on the phone.I take a deep breath and walk over, my boots clicking softly against the floor. "Morning, Dad," I say, sliding into the chair across from him. He looks up. "Imogene," he folds the newspaper and settles it aside. "You’re glowing. How are the twins treating you today?" I chuckle lightly, resting my hands on the table. "They’re active, as usual. I feel like I’m carrying a pair
Imogene Scott “Imogene, are you alright?” the voice is distant. “Can you tell us what you saw that day?”I can’t answer. My hands are clenched hard as I stare down at my palms in the interrogation room. My throat feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and my chest is so tight I can barely breathe. The officer's words echo, bouncing off the walls and back at me, but I don’t lift my gaze. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be in this cold, unforgiving room recounting the worst moment of my life. I should be home, grieving my father who died five days ago. Damien didn’t want me to come, he had the power to allow me skip the interrogation but I wanted to come. I wanted to be there to help the police catch whoever killed my father. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure I can take it, I’m not sure I want to retell that horrible moment.The walls of the interrogation room feel like they’re closing in on me. My hands are clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms as I stare down a
Damien Shaw I step out of the bedroom and close the door softly behind me. Imogene is asleep finally but it’s a restless kind of sleep, the kind that doesn’t ease the knots in her brow or the tension in her body. She’s breaking, and I don’t know how to fix her.So much has happened in five days I can’t even begin to comprehend. Ethan’s death has been a shock to me and I cant imagine how Imogene must have felt at that moment witnessing such a grueling scene.The hallway is dim, it’s mid afternoon. I glance at my watch. Lily’s school lets out in twenty minutes, and I need to pick her up. It feels wrong to send her to school when her world is unraveling, but keeping her here and surrounding her with all the grief in this house felt crueler. She doesn’t understand why Mommy doesn’t smile anymore, why Grandpa isn’t coming back. I barely understand it myself. My phone buzzes in my pocket, a sharp, jarring vibration that cuts through my thoughts. I pull it out as I make my way down
Imogene Scott A few days later… I’m sitting by the dresser and looking at myself in the mirror while I do my hair for Dad’s service. The morning air is cold for some reason. My black dress clings to my frame and I’m able to truly notice how much weight I’ve lost in just a few days. My collarbones jut out sharply, and my cheeks look hollow. My hands tremble as I pick up the hairbrush, dragging it through my hair. Each stroke feels like I’m on autopilot. I pull my hair back into a bun. The mirror doesn’t lie. I look like a ghost of myself, but it’s not just the reflection—it’s how I feel. I miss him. I miss my dad in ways I can’t even begin to put into words. It’s like a piece of me was ripped away the moment he fell. And now, that moment keeps replaying in my head on an endless loop. The sound of the gunshot, sharp and deafening, rings in my ears at the most unexpected times—when I’m trying to eat, when I’m lying in bed trying to sleep, even now as I sit here. I see shado
Imogene Scott The ride down to the chapel is long. Damien turns up the radio at some point. Bumper-to-bumper traffic too, and Sara Bareilles’ “Brave” is the biggest song on the radio right now, so it blares from the speakers every third song. On a regular day, Sara’s fine, but the last thing I want to hear on the day of my father’s funeral is how much Sara Bareilles wants to see me be brave. We finally turn into the parking lot of the Garden Grove 6th Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the church dad attended. We walk up the front steps and in through the back door. I haven’t been here in years, but it looks and smells exactly how I remember it. Carpet cleaner and burlap, baby. White tiles in the entryway, blue carpet in the hallways, pictures of Christ in various settings with disciples plastered everywhere. The service soon begin. My insides are tightening and u fell like I’m going to throw up. I glance around, Lila isn’t anywhere to be seen. She
Imogene Scott It was hard to focus on the dull ache in my lower abdomen, because I’m in a constant reminder of how close I’d come to losing everything. Abortion pills. The words echo in my mind. How? Why? I didn’t take anything like that. I wouldn’t.“Your gynecologist recommended drugs to you?” I nod, confused and uncertain at the same time. Yes, Dr. Pepp had prescribed something, and I’d taken them without hesitation, trusting they were for the twins' health. I can still see the disbelief in Damien’s eyes, the storm building behind them before he stormed out of the hospital room. Now I’m alone, left to piece together the scattered fragments of what had happened.I sit up slightly in the hospital bed, staring blankly at the door Damien just stormed out of. The words still echo in my head. It doesn’t make sense. I only took what Dr. Pepp prescribed. My hands tremble as I press them to my belly, trying to anchor myself to the reality that my babies are still safe. I can’t sto
Damien ShawThe office feels suffocating tonight. It’s past 9 p.m., and I’ve been waiting all day for feedback about Gerald’s latest screw-up. Patience isn’t my strong suit, and right now, it’s wearing thin. I glance at my phone for what feels like the hundredth time. No messages. No missed calls. Not from Imogene. That’s what surprises me the most. She always checks in, even if it’s just a quick text. Maybe she’s just tired. The drive home is quiet. When I pull into the driveway, the house looks the same as it always does. I step out of the car and into the cool night air. Inside, the aroma of something faintly sweet greets me. Sheila’s in the kitchen, wiping down the counter. She looks up and smiles when she sees me. “Evening, Mr. Shaw,” she says cheerfully. “Long day?” “Yeah.” I drop my briefcase by the door and loosen my tie. “Where’s Imogene?” “She’s been asleep since this afternoon,” Sheila says. “I didn’t want to disturb her. She looked so tired.” I frown. “That’
Imogene Scott The air inside the car feels suffocating as I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white against the leather. The phone call is still replaying in my head including my conversation with Lila. It wasn’t her that made the threatening call. I’m sure of it now. But if it wasn’t her, then who was it? I force myself to focus on the road ahead. My fingers tighten around the wheel as I take the familiar turn toward the hospital. The parking lot is half-empty. I pull into a spot near the entrance and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, staring at the hospital entrance. Six months. I rest a hand on my stomach to feel the faint stir of life within me. “We’re okay,” I whisper softly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. I climb out of the car, the cool breeze biting against my skin as I cross the lot. The hospital doors slide open with a faint hiss, and I step into the sterile, overly bright lobby. When I reach Dr. Pepp’s office, she’s waiting for me. H
Damien Shaw I walk into the office that morning, lost in thought. I can still feel Imogene’s body next to mine from last night. I wanted to ask her about Ville Road, but I don’t know how to do it without sounding accusatory. Without making her feel like I’m questioning her. Hell, I’ve never been good at that—asking the hard questions, digging into the things I want to know but don’t always want the answers to. I close my eyes briefly as I move down the hall. What the hell was she doing there? I tell myself I trust her. I do. I reach my office, push the door open, and step inside. The moment I do, I stop dead in my tracks. Kia’s pacing in front of my desk, her heels clicking against the floor. Her brows are furrowed, and she doesn’t even notice me until I clear my throat. “Mr Shaw,” she says, stopping. “Gerald dropped by earlier this morning.” I feel relief at the mention of Gerald’s name. “Gerald?” I repeat, still standing in the doorway. “I told you he was only caught u
Imogene Scott I sit frozen on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone screen, the words "Unknown Caller" still burned into my mind. The robotic voice from the call plays over and over again. “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it now. Things might get ugly.”A chill runs through me, and I rub my arms, trying to shake it off. My mind races. Who was it? How do they know what I’m doing? And why now? The door creaks open, snapping me out of my thoughts. My heart jumps in my chest, and I instinctively clutch my phone tighter. But it’s Damien. Relief floods me, but only for a moment. His face is drawn. Something about him feels off. “Hey,” I say softly, rising from the bed. I move toward him and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back, but it’s not the same. His body feels stiff, like he’s holding something back. I pull back and study his face. “Are you okay?” I ask. “Just work stress,” he mutters, brushing past me. Work stress? I know Damien better than that. He’s hid
Imogene Scott The city stretches out in front of me as I drive. My fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel. How am I supposed to find out what this key unlocks? From what I’ve seen, Lila will continue to be tight-lipped. But at least I know how important the key is amd whatever “this is bigger than you.” threat she spilled isn’t going to scare me. I grip the wheel tighter. The dashboard clock flashes 2:45 PM, and I realize it’s almost time to pick up Lily. I push my thoughts aside, turning the car toward her school. When I pull up, I see Lily. She’s standing by the gate, clutching her little pink bag. Her mouth set in a pout. Normally, she runs to me the moment she sees the car. But today? Today, she walks. Slow. When she reaches the car, she opens the back door herself and climbs in, offering me only a quiet, "Hi, Mum," before clicking her seatbelt into place. When did my baby girl become such a grown up?"Hi, sweetheart," I say softly, turning in my seat to look at
Damien Shaw I pull into the parking lot of Shaw Tech. I’m a little stressed from all the drama this morning. Between Lily's tantrums of her avoiding Imogene and Imogene’s sudden emotional distance. I can’t seem to focus. It feels like I’ve been juggling too many balls, and any minute now, one of them is bound to drop. I grab my briefcase from the passenger seat and step out, adjusting my tie as I walk toward the building. The elevator ride up is quick, and when the doors open to my office floor, Kia is already waiting by my door. Her crisp blouse and tightly pulled-back hair are as perfect as always."Good morning, Kia," I say as I step into my office. "Morning, sir," she replies, following me in. "We’ve got a problem." I drop my briefcase onto the desk and loosen my tie slightly. "Don’t tell me. Let me guess—Gerald still isn’t here." "You guessed right," she says. "Three days now without any notice. And sir, I don’t think it’s just a personal issue." I pause mid-reach
Imogene Scott As soon as Damien and Lily leave the house that morning, I take a moment to gather my thoughts together. From what I discovered yesterday, Terry and Lila used to be together but Lila left him to get married to my father. My question now is why Lila would date someone who had nothing, someone like Terry. Could it be because she needed access to something? The key he made for dad? I mean Terry made the key which is something seemingly important so that’s the only explanation.I shove the thought aside as I rush into the bathroom. The water in the shower is scalding, and I let it sting my skin as I hurriedly scrub myself clean. I need to see Lila again.After a quick change into dark jeans and a simple blouse, I head downstairs and I spot Sheila walking in through the front door. She’s carrying a small tote.“Good morning, Imogene,” she greets me.Her smile is bright and unnervingly warm. Something about Sheila stirs an uneasy feeling in me, though I can’t place it.
Note: the last two chapters have been edited. Read them before proceeding.Imogene ScottI wake up to the sound of water running in the bathroom. The spot next to me in bed is cold, Damien already gone. The faint hum of the shower fills the room, but it does little to distract me from the heavy knot of guilt in my chest. Last night’s events play on a loop in my head—Damien’s disappointment, Lily’s tears, Sheila stepping in where I failed. I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just after 6 a.m. Damien’s workday will start soon, and I don’t even know how to approach him after what happened. But more than that, I don’t know how to face Lily. I take a deep breath and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cool against my bare feet as I walk to the closet. Pulling open the door, I automatically grab one of Damien’s pressed shirts and a tie, laying them neatly on the bench by the foot of the bed. The shower contin