Chapter 16 - The Last Thing Samantha Asked ForDominic requested the emergency medical records from Samantha’s crash.
He had read them years earlier.
Not carefully.
Grief turned documents into noise.
Now he read every timestamp.
First passerby called 911 at 9:34.
Paramedics arrived 9:41.
Samantha was conscious intermittently.
Severe internal injuries.
She was transported at 9:52.
Died at hospital at 11:07.
Dominic’s flight from Atlanta landed after midnight.
He had not been able to say goodbye.
Could Eleanor calling him at 9:35 have changed that?
Maybe.
He could have spoken by phone.
Maybe Samantha could have heard his voice.
Maybe not.
The uncertainty became another grief trap.
Dr. Ellison told him:
“You can spend the rest of your life building alternate versions.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
She nodded.
At least honest.
He kept hearing:
Call Dominic.
Two words Samantha spoke after seeing Eleanor.
Not:
Help me.
Not:
Get the papers.
Dominic.
He wondered what she wanted to say.
Apology?
Warning?
I love you?
Something about the children?
He would never know.
That hurt.
Then Ivy brought him Samantha’s old phone.
“Can we charge it?”
Dominic frowned.
“Why?”
“Mom might have videos.”
He had avoided it for years.
Police had returned the phone after the crash.
Damaged.
Stored.
Dominic had backed up photos, but not every voice memo.
They took it to a forensic technician.
Most data already existed in cloud storage.
One local draft had not synced.
A voice memo.
Created that afternoon.
Samantha’s voice.
Calm.
“Dominic.”
His heart stopped.
She was rehearsing something.
“I need to tell you the truth about your mother.”
Pause.
“I also need to tell you the truth about me.”
Dominic stared.
Samantha continued:
“I met with a divorce attorney last year.”
There it was.
No surprise now.
“I didn’t go because I stopped loving you.”
Dominic’s eyes filled.
“I went because I felt like I was disappearing inside our marriage and inside your family.”
He closed his eyes.
“You were always gone. And when you were home, you were tired. I kept telling myself work was temporary.”
Dominic cried quietly.
“I know you loved us.”
A breath.
“But love from an airport still feels far away.”
That sentence hurt more than Eleanor’s accusations because Samantha had earned the right to say it.
Then:
“I should have told you clearly. I complained instead. I became secretive. I let resentment make decisions for me.”
Dominic looked down.
Samantha owned her part.
“I never had an affair.”
A small laugh.
“I know Eleanor wants you to believe that.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“Ivy is yours. Caleb is yours. I’m yours in the sense that I choose you, not that anyone owns anyone.”
Pause.
“I decided I wanted to stay.”
Dominic’s breath broke.
“I wanted us to fix it.”
Tears fell.
“But I also decided I would stop protecting you from your mother.”
There.
“I thought keeping peace helped you.”
Her voice changed.
“It didn’t.”
Dominic thought of Franklin.
Same lesson.
“It made me smaller.”
Another pause.
“And I think it made Eleanor more dangerous.”
Dominic held the phone tighter.
“If you hear this because I chickened out, make me tell you.”
A faint laugh.
“If you hear it because something happened—”
Silence.
Then Samantha’s voice softened.
“Don’t let the kids grow up thinking love means silence.”
The memo ended.
Dominic sat still for a long time.
Caleb and Ivy waited nearby.
“Was Mom mad at you?” Caleb asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you feel bad?”
“Yes.”
“Was she going to leave?”
“She considered it.”
Ivy looked worried.
“Because of us?”
“No.”
Immediate.
“Never because of you.”
Dominic explained simply.
“Mom and I had problems we didn’t talk about well.”
Caleb nodded.
“Like adults lying by not saying stuff.”
“Yes.”
“Grandma did that too.”
“Yes.”
“So everybody messed up.”
Dominic smiled painfully.
“Different amounts.”
Caleb smiled slightly.
Important distinction.
Not false equivalence.
Dominic continued therapy.
He stopped turning Samantha into perfect victim.
She hid things.
Avoided hard conversations.
Protected him without consent.
Considered divorce.
Still loved him.
Still tried to expose Eleanor.
Still died because of a chain of dangerous choices she did not create.
Complexity made Samantha more real.
Not less loved.
Meanwhile, Eleanor’s criminal case approached plea negotiations.
Prosecutors believed they could prove substantial fraud, forgery, unlawful medication administration, child abuse-related offenses, obstruction and evidence tampering connected to Samantha’s crash.
Not murder.
Dominic supported truth over maximum narrative.
Then Eleanor sent one message through counsel.
Not request for forgiveness.
Not bargaining.
A sentence:
I want Caleb and Ivy to know I lied when I said their mother abandoned them.
Dominic stared.
He could tell them himself.
He already had.
The message did not earn access.
But it was the first time Eleanor corrected a lie without attaching an excuse.
Dominic wondered whether accountability had finally begun.
Then Caleb asked:
“Can Grandma ever become safe again?”
May you like
Dominic did not know.
And that question would shape what came next more than any sentence a judge could impose.
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