Chapter 5 - GREG KNEW MY FATHER
My father was an accountant.
Greg managed operations at one of his clients.
David discovered irregular payments.
Greg insisted they were legitimate reimbursements.
David disagreed.
Their relationship collapsed.
Then David died in a highway accident.
No evidence connected Greg to it.
Important.
Nobody invented a murder conspiracy.
The accident report was clear.
Rain.
Loss of control.
Collision.
But Greg knew Melissa had money.
He knew she was grieving.
Two years later, he reappeared.
Helpful.
Patient.
Kind.
Mom fell in love.
Then control started.
Slowly.
He offered to handle bills.
Passwords.
Taxes.
Investments.
By the time Melissa realized she had lost control of her own finances, Greg controlled everything.
Then I found Dad’s old key.
How?
Inside Mr. Rocket.
A wooden toy spaceship Dad made me.
There was a tiny compartment underneath.
The key had been hidden there for years.
I discovered it accidentally.
Greg saw me carrying it.
Recognized it.
Panicked.
That was why he hurt me.
Not because I was disobedient.
Because one small key threatened three years of lies.
Then Melissa asked me:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I looked at her.
“Because he said you’d get hurt.”
She broke.
Not theatrical.
She just sat down and covered her face.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to do.
So I hugged her.
Then Dr. Reed entered.
He had received my final imaging review.
My cheek would heal.
No permanent damage expected.
Good.
But the wrist bruising concerned him.
One older injury suggested I had previously been hurt badly enough to need medical attention.
I had never received it.
When?
February.
Greg twisted my wrist because I tried to call Mom while she worked overnight.
I couldn’t use my hand properly for four days.
He wrapped it himself.
Told Mom I hurt it playing basketball.
She remembered.
That lie became another documented piece of the pattern.
Then Mom said something I had never heard before:
“We’re not going back.”
Greg heard from the hallway.
His expression changed.
Not rage.
May you like
Fear.
Because losing control of us meant losing control of the story.
