Chapter 230

Abigail couldn’t believe Stephen had gone to Ralph and confessed everything. “So that’s why Ralph cut ties with the Gibson family? Because Stephen went to him with the truth?”

She’d always thought Stephen was an idiot—impulsive, hot-headed, the type who’d try to give the moon and stars to someone he loved, or grind someone he hated into the dirt so they’d never recover.

But she never expected him to be the first one willing to admit what they’d done.

The recording continued, “I know we need to face the legal consequences before Abigail can truly move on. I’m tired of living with this guilt. Maybe when I get out of prison, she’ll see me as her brother again.

“The truth is, Daniella had dashcam footage from that night, but Dad destroyed it. He submitted fake footage to the police instead. That fake evidence is what left Abigail defenseless in court and got her three years.”

The recording wasn’t long, but Abigail caught something deliberate in it.

Stephen always called her Abby, but in the recording, he used her full name—Abigail.

Abigail wondered, ‘Had he gone to Ralph specifically to confess, knowing it would be recorded?’

The evidence from back then would have been nearly impossible to find. Stephen’s confession, though, had cracked the case wide open.

But Abigail would have preferred Ralph finding solid evidence rather than learning the truth through Stephen’s breakdown in such a helpless situation.

After hearing everything, Abigail felt no joy. Only bitterness and hurt flooded through her chest. So this was what it felt like when they finally admitted their mistake.

Tears streamed down her face in silence.

The pain of being wrongfully imprisoned surged back across time, engulfing her completely.

Abigail remembered standing in that courtroom as every member of the Gibson family pointed at her, accusing her of the hit-and-run.

The judge’s cold stare. The victim’s family’s lawyer pressed her relentlessly. Every person, every word dripped with venom. In that imposing courtroom, she had no defense.

Abigail listened in silence as the judge read her sentence. No appeal. She was sentenced straight to prison.

Not a single Gibson had defended her or spoken one word in her favor.

Her hatred for the Gibson family had never been about the false accusation itself. It was their self-righteous attitude while destroying her life. All she had ever wanted was a genuine apology. A sincere admission of guilt for forcing her into prison.

A soft, choked sound escaped Abigail’s throat.

She forwarded the recording to Sebastian, and within a minute, her phone was ringing. When she answered, she could only manage a wounded whimper, like an injured animal seeking comfort.

“I know these years have been hard on you,” Sebastian said, his voice carefully neutral.

Abigail cried for several minutes before she could steady herself enough to speak. “Can we track down everyone who helped the Gibson family cover this up back then?”

Sebastian knew exactly who she meant. “We’ve been following leads on our end too. Now you can take this recording to the police, and everything will finally be settled, whether you just want Daniella to go to prison, or everyone except your grandfather.”

His voice was calm and steady, carrying a reassuring strength.

“I’ll file the report first thing tomorrow morning,” Abigail said firmly.

She wouldn’t hesitate, even if it meant sending the entire Gibson family to prison.

Wyatt would suffer, she knew. Gabriel was his son, Stephen and Christian were his grandsons, and Bianca had been part of his household for years.

But Abigail needed that declaration of innocence. Wyatt might hate her for it, but she believed he would understand.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Try to get some rest tonight,” Sebastian told her.

Abigail murmured her agreement, already feeling the weight of what tomorrow would bring.

She should have felt relieved now that she had the recording—finally, everything could be settled. But that night, her sleep was plagued by chaotic dreams.

A suffocating weight pressed down on her chest, dragging her from the depths of exhausted sleep.

Abigail’s eyes snapped open as she gasped for air, only to choke on thick smoke that filled her lungs. Her bedroom was on fire.

Flames had already consumed half the furniture, and dense smoke clouded the room.

She threw off the covers and rushed to the door, yanking desperately at the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Racing to her dresser, she fumbled for the spare key, but when she tried to insert it into the lock, it wouldn’t go in.

Someone had jammed the keyhole.

Abigail’s body went cold. She needed to get to the bathroom—there was water there. But there was no way she could make it. Flames danced wildly across the room, and every piece of wooden furniture was ablaze.

She pressed her hand over her mouth and backed away, searching frantically for her phone. It wasn’t on the nightstand where she’d left it.

Her heart sank as the realization hit her. “The recording. Someone from the Gibson family wants me to die in this fire.”