Rebecca’s face crumpled, and she sank to her knees beside the coffin. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she confessed, her voice breaking with the weight of the admission. “He found out… about everything. I thought he would leave…”

The pieces fell into place with a sickening clarity. The accident, the fear in Dad’s eyes before it happened — it wasn’t random. It was calculated, a plan gone terribly wrong. I felt a wave of anger mixed with sorrow, a tempest of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

Lily looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent yet filled with an understanding far beyond her years. “Daddy isn’t mad,” she said, as if she were relaying a message from beyond. “He just wants us to be safe.”

Rebecca sobbed openly now, her guilt and fear laid bare in the dim light of the funeral home. I found myself moving toward Lily, wrapping my arms around her small frame protectively. We had lost so much, but in that moment, it felt like we had gained something too — a truth that bound us together, a promise to preserve Dad’s legacy and protect each other.

As we left the funeral home, leaving Rebecca to her tears and confessions, I felt a sense of resolve solidify within me. We would uncover the whole truth, and we would heal. For Dad. For Lily. For all of us.

And as the night deepened, the world felt a little less hollow, a little more hopeful, as if Dad were watching over us, guiding us through the darkness toward the light.