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
Damien Shaw The service ends, and I take Imogene’s hand as we walk to the car. Her grip is weak, her fingers cold despite the late afternoon sun warming the pavement. The parking lot is quiet except for the faint hum of cars passing on the main road. I glance at her as I open the passenger door for her, but she keeps her face turned away.Once I’ve settled into the driver’s seat, I start the car, and the radio hums to life. I immediately shut it off. Imogene stares out the window, her head resting against the glass, her lips pressed into a thin line. I want to say something but I know better. She hasn’t spoken since we left the church, and I’m not about to be the one to break the silence. My thoughts drift as I drive. Lila. Her absence at the funeral/ She hasn’t even called Imogene since the incident. Her husband just died, and she didn’t show up to his funeral. No call. No text. Nothing. I can’t make sense of it. But I don’t say any of this aloud. Imogene’s already spiraling.
Imogene Scott As soon as Damien’s out of the room, I sit at the edge of the bed, staring down at my hands. They’re trembling slightly, though I try to steady them by clasping them together. For some reason, I’m still worried about Lila. Why didn’t she come? I can’t stop thinking about it. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and let out a slow, shaky breath. It’s insane, absolutely insane, to think she had anything to do with Dad’s death. But why wasn’t she there? “Stop it,” I whisper to myself. “It’s nothing. There’s no reason to spiral like this.” I force myself to sit back down on the bed, but my body feels restless, wound tight. I swing my legs up and lay back, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flutter shut, but as soon as I do, the image of that day flashes behind my eyelids again—Dad collapsing, the chaos that followed, the ambulance.This time, I don’t push it away. I let it come. My breathing quickens, but I keep my eyes closed. Slowly, the scene fades, replaced by so
Damien Shaw The kitchen smells like butter and eggs as I stand by the stove, flipping the omelette in the pan. The sizzle fills the air, and I catch the faintest scent of parsley—Lily insists she hates green things, but I sneak them in for her anyway. I glance at the clock above the sink. It’s later than I thought. Imogene is still upstairs with the doctor. I hope that goes smoothly, but something tells me it won’t. “Mummy says eggs make you strong like Superman!” Lily’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she rushes into the kitchen.“Is it ready, Daddy?” she asks.She’s peering up at me with those wide, curious eyes that make me feel like I’m doing something right in this whole parenting thing. “Just in time,” I say.I slide the omelette onto a small plate, cut it into smaller pieces, then hand it to her. “Thank you!” she chirps before scampering into the living room. I follow her with my eyes as she climbs onto the couch, settling in with her plate. A faint movement ca
Imogene Scott I sit down in the tufted chair opposite Dr Annie Eddie and let out a sigh. This is my first therapy session with her and I’m a little nervous. I’m only here because of Damien. Because I want to be better for him, for Lily and the twins. I tell her a few things about my life I’m comfortable telling anyone and she tells me in order to get to what’s underneath those emotions, what’s driving it, we need to unpack my life in a more comprehensive way.“Okay…” I’m hesitant. What will this entail? I hate the uncertainty.“And please, address me as Annie.” I nod. “Sure.”“Now, I want to understand more about Little Imogene,” she says tenderly. “I understand your mother died of cancer when you were just ten.”Always with the childhood, these therapists. I’ve seen enough movies and TV shows to know that this is the classic therapeutic scapegoat. Some shit happenedin your childhood, it messed you up, that’s why you are the way you are.But not me. I didn’t have an alcoholic d
“Yes,” I say with a little more heat on it than I would’ve liked. “Because he believed in me. He believed I could do it.”“Okay.”“He believed in me.”“I understand.”Beat.“Can you tell me what happened after you helped him save the company?” Annie pauses to find the right words. This one I don’t want to answer but I feel like if I wiggle around it Annie will just come right back for the jugular with her follow up. I tread with caution.“Well… he got married again.”“And you?”“Yes, what about me?”“Were you in touch with him?”“Well, he had his new life. We barely kept touch.”Annie holds another of her trademark unreadable stares at me. Even though I can’t gauge the specics, I can tell there’s a lot of speculation going on. I feel theneed to add more.“Plus, we started keeping in touch again recently.” I give a little nod to punctuate my statement. I’m hoping that moved the dialon Annie’s judgment, but after a few seconds I can tell it didn’t.Annie purses her lips. “Who reached
Damien Shaw “Please, keep the investigation discreet for now,” I say firmly, meeting Gerald’s gaze. My voice is steady, but my insides churn. Gerald nods and gathers his notes before leaving my office. The door clicks shut and I sink into my seat, pinching the bridge of my nose as my temples throb. Five meetings, all back-to-back in one morning. Each one is a battlefield of strategy, damage control, and trying to piece together what the hell is happening with this damn leak. My head feels like it’s about to split open, and the office suddenly seems unbearably warm. I loosen my tie and lean back, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I need just a second—one second to breathe— My phone vibrates against the desk, shattering the silence. I grab it immediately, hoping it’s Gerald with an update, but instead, I see Imogene’s name. It’s a text: Imogene: "I don’t think therapy is good for me."My stomach twists. Therapy. The session. What happened? My thumb hovers over her nam
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