Chapter 3
The phone contained four saved clips.
The first showed Finn driving normally.
Laughing.
Controlling the wheel himself.
I almost stopped there.
Because that single video destroyed their entire story.
Second clip.
Declan standing behind the kart, quietly telling Finn he was going to show “the men” whether he was brave.
Third.
Evelyn holding the controller.
Fourth.
The first forced crash.
Finn crying.
Declan saying:
“Again.”
I stopped the video.
Nobody moved.
“So he could drive.”
Declan looked away.
“He could drive when he wasn’t scared.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“He became scared after you started controlling the kart.”
That distinction mattered.
They had created the failure they intended to show.
Evelyn crossed her arms.
“He needed to be tested.”
“For what?”
“Leadership.”
I laughed once.
Cold.
“You think leadership is not crying when adults sabotage you?”
She stared.
“That’s how your father raised you.”
There it was.
My father.
Dead six years.
Still being used to justify things he was no longer alive to defend or deny.
My father was hard.
Too hard sometimes.
But he never tied a preschooler’s hands to a steering wheel.
I looked at Finn.
“Did they tell you Grandpa wanted this?”
His eyes filled.
“Declan said Grandpa hates babies.”
My throat tightened.
My father adored Finn before he died.
The child barely remembered him.
Declan had filled the blank space himself.
Not only to frighten Finn.
To make the cruelty feel inherited.
Approved.
May you like
Traditional.
Untouchable.
