Chapter 4 - The Funeral I Never Questioned

Emma remembered little about the accident itself.

Rain.

Headlights.

A sudden impact.

Then waking inside a hospital she did not recognize.

She had suffered serious injuries and prolonged confusion.

Her identification had supposedly been lost during the accident.

Yet someone knew exactly who she was.

“My first clear memory,” Emma said, “was Victoria sitting beside my hospital bed.”

I stared at her.

“Victoria?”

Emma nodded.

“She told me you had been informed.”

I felt sick.

“What else?”

“She said you were recovering from injuries too.”

“I wasn’t even in the car.”

“I know that now.”

Emma had been told that publicity around the accident was dangerous because Whitmore Global was negotiating a major transaction.

She was moved to a private rehabilitation facility.

“Who authorized that?”

Emma looked at me.

“Your uncle.”

Richard Whitmore.

My father’s younger brother.

Our chief financial officer at the time.

The man who had arranged Emma’s funeral.

The man who had stood beside me while I watched a closed casket lowered into the earth.

I called him Uncle Richard.

Emma continued.

“When my memory became clearer, I asked to call you.”

“What happened?”

“Victoria said you didn’t want contact.”

I stood.

“No.”

“I know.”

“No, Emma. I never—”

“I know now.”

My hands shook.

“What exactly did she tell you?”

Emma looked toward Lily.

Then answered carefully.

“That you blamed me for the accident.”

I stared at her.

“She said you wanted a divorce.”

I closed my eyes.

Emma had awakened frightened, injured, pregnant—

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and had been told her husband no longer wanted her.

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