Chapter <b>157 </b>
Reba’s POV
After my realization that Dn couldn’t have acted alone, Rivera made several hushed phone calls before finally agreeing to take <b>me </b>to my parents in the afternoon.
Every time I closed my eyes, I <b>saw </b>Jason’s face. Then my mind would cruelly shift to imagining his final moments, terrified as masked strangers invaded our home. The thought that he had died was unbelievable.
Now, as light streamed through the SUV windows<b>, </b>I sat in hollow silence. My initial shock had given way to <b>a </b>numbness that seemed to spread through my entire body. The revtion about Dn having an aplice still troubled me, but exhaustion had dulled its urgency.
My fingers absently traced patterns across my abdomen, <b>a </b>protective gesture I wasn’t fully conscious of making. Two lives now, connected yet separate–one shattered by death, one just beginning.
“Ms. Brown?” Rivera’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. <b>His </b><b>eyes </b>met mine briefly in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “Your parents are receiving the best care possible at Silver Crown Medical Center. Mr. Sterling arranged for private counselors and <b>medical </b>staff to attend to them.”
I nodded, unable to form words around the lump in my throat. Even breathing felt like an effort. Jason was dead. My little brother–annoying,zy, frustrating Jason–was gone forever. The reality of it kept hitting me in waves, each one threatening to pull me under.
“Did they…” I swallowed hard. “Did they tell you how it happened?”
Rivera’s shoulders tensed slightly. “I don’t have all the details, Ms. Brown. Mr. Sterling ordered this arrangement personally. I believe it would be best if your parents shared what they know.”
His careful evasion told me more than his words. Whatever <b>had </b>happened to Jason, it was bad enough that Rivera didn’t want to be the one to tell me. I turned my gaze back to the window, watching faceless buildings blur past. Each mile brought me closer to a conversation I wasn’t ready to <b>have</b><b>, </b>to a grief I wasn’t prepared to face.
The polished ss and steel structure of Silver Crown Medical Center loomed ahead, sunlight reflecting off its windows like a warning beacon.
“<b>This </b>way, Ms. Brown.” A receptionist with perfect posture led us down a hallway to <b>a </b>door marked “Family Consultation Suite.” She knocked softly before opening it, gesturing for me to enter.
The room was designed to feel homey–plush couches, soft lighting, tasteful decor–but nothing could soften the tableau before me. My father sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his normally proud shoulders curled inward with grief. My mother was beside him, her face so pale it seemed translucent, her eyes fixed vacantly on the wall.
<b>9:11 </b>Fri, Sep 26 B
“<b>Mom</b>? Dad?” My voice etneked.
My father’s head snapped up. His eyes, red–rimmed and swollen, widened at the sight of me. “Ba,‘ he whispered, his voice rough as sandpaper. Without another word, he stood and crossed the room in three long strides, pulling me into a crushing embrace.
“My little girl,” he choked out, his body shuddering against mine. “We lost him, Ba. We lost Jason.”
I felt my own tears spill over as I clutched him tightly. Over his shoulder, I watched my mother slowly turn her head, her movements <b>mechanical</b>, as if her body required tremendous effort to perform even this simple action.
“Reba,” <b>she </b>said, my name sounding hollow on her lips. Her hand reached weakly toward me. “My son… my son…”
I gently disengaged from my father and <b>moved </b>to kneel before my mother, taking her cold hands in mine. “Mom, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, though the words felt pathetically inadequate. What could anyone say in the face of <b>such </b>
loss?
Her fingers tightened around mine with surprising strength. “He was just at home,” she said, her voice drifting as if she were talking to herself. “Just at home…”
My father lowered himself heavily onto the couch beside her. “The doctors gave her something,” he exined quietly. “To help with the shock.”
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