The guesthouse felt too quiet without Devon pacing around it. Emery shifted on the couch, trying to find a position that didn't make her bruised hip scream in protest. The TV played some mindless cooking show she wasn't really watching, but the background noise kept her from dwelling on the fact that someone had tried to kill her last night.
Or had they? Sandy seemed convinced it was a hit-and-run, an accident by a distracted or drunk driver who panicked. But the timing felt too convenient. The escalation too deliberate.
The door opened, and Emery looked up, expecting Devon to have forgotten his phone.
Instead, her father stood in the doorway.
Her dad looked older than he had just a month ago—more gray at his temples, deeper lines around his eyes. But his expression held the same gentle warmth that had defined her childhood, and seeing him now, in this moment when her world felt like it was crumbling, made her throat tighten with emotion.
"Dad?" Her voice came out small, uncertain.
"Hi, sweetheart." He stepped inside, and behind him came Gabe and an older man who bore a striking resemblance to him—same sandy hair going gray, same build, same careful way ofmoving. That should put an end to any rumors that Gabe was David’s son.
Devon appeared last, closing the door behind them. He caught Emery's eye, gave her a look that said, ’trust me” then gestured to Gabe. "We'll give you some privacy."
Gabe and Devon slipped out through the patio doors, leaving Emery alone with her father and the stranger.
"I'm Robert Maxwell," the older man said, extending his hand. "Gabe's father. Your dad asked me to be here for legal reasons—what we're about to discuss is part of an active federal investigation."
Emery struggled to stand, her hip protesting the movement. Her father crossed to her immediately, helping her settle back onto the couch before taking the seat beside her.
"You're hurt," he said, his hand hovering near the bruise on her face but not quite touching. "Devon told me what happened."
"I'm okay. Banged up but okay." Emery looked between her father and Robert. "What's going on? I thought you couldn’t talk about any of it.”
Her father took a deep breath. “Under the circumstances, it's time you knew the truth. About the insurance fraud case, about why I ended up being fired, about all of it."
"Dad, you don't have to?—"
"I do. You've been carrying the weight of my choices without understanding them. That's not fair to you." He glanced at Robert, who nodded. "Two years ago, I was approached by federal investigators about a massive insurance fraud operation. Multiple companies, millions of dollars in fake claims, a network of people all working together to defraud the system."
"I know all this," Emery said quietly.
"You know the public version. But what you don't know is that I was never part of the fraud. The real perpetrators set meup to take the fall." Her father's voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "By the time I realized what was happening, the evidence against me looked damning, but I had already started preparing for battle.”
“The feds know you're innocent?"
"They do now. But two years ago, they weren't sure. That's when Robert got involved." Her father nodded toward Gabe's father. "He was brought in as a consultant, and he was the one who’d started finding the inconsistencies in the evidence against me. He was also the one who got the feds to examine the information I’d collected more closely.”
Robert leaned forward. "The more I dug, the more I realized Michael had been framed. But here's where it gets complicated—the people who framed him weren't just after him. They'd also set up several lower-level employees at various insurance companies to look complicit. People who'd unknowingly signed off on fraudulent claims, whose authorization codes had been used without their knowledge."
"Like Gabe's mother," Emery’s father said.
"Among others," Robert confirmed. "My wife was one of several people who would have been charged as accessories if the case had moved forward as originally structured. They were innocent—just doing their jobs—but on paper, they looked guilty."
"So, what happened?" Emery’s chest hurt as she tried to suck in a deep breath. For two years, she wondered if her father—her hero—could’ve committed a crime. Could’ve been driven by greed.
Her father took her hand. "I made a deal with the prosecutors. I agreed to cooperate with their investigation, to help them build a case against the real perpetrators, in exchange for immunity for the employees who'd been set up. People like Robert's wife, who had no idea what was happening."
"You protected them," Emery said, her throat tight.
"I did what was right. Those people didn't deserve to have their lives destroyed." Her father's grip tightened on her hand. "But it meant living under suspicion. It meant letting people think I was guilty while the feds built their case. It meant watching you suffer because of accusations I couldn't publicly refute." Her father sighed. "I wanted to tell you so badly. Wanted to explain why I wasn't fighting back publicly. But I couldn't risk it."
Robert stood. "I should give you two some privacy. Michael, you have my number if you need anything. Emery, it was good to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
After he left, Emery and her father sat in silence. The TV still played in the background, some cheerful host explaining proper knife technique, utterly at odds with the weight of what she'd just learned.
"I thought you might be guilty," Emery admitted, the words painful to say aloud. "I tried not to believe it, but you wouldn't defend yourself, wouldn't explain, and I started to wonder.”
