Arthur did not argue. He simply positioned the camera in front of them, his voice cold and heavy.
“Mom… just play this. Then you’ll understand everything.”
When my parents finally watched the video, their disappointment, contempt, and harsh criticism vanished in an instant. Instead, they sat frozen, mouths agape with shock, unable to speak. Confusion quickly ensued.
My father looked at the screen in disbelief, his voice trembling with denial.
“That… that has to be fake! I swear-it must be! Liora’s always been good at faking things to trick us!”
Arthur stepped forward, his voice low but steady, full of sorrow and frustration.
“Dad, why are you so afraid of believing the truth?”
“This isn’t a fake video. That’s Vivienne. Those are her words-her actions.”
“She framed Liora… and none of us ever listened to her.”
“Tell me, was it true? Was Liora really suffering from silver dust poisoning while you all ignored her cries?”
My parents’ stunned expression revealed why they had always chosen to believe Vivienne over me.
It was not about logic.
It was simple: they loved her more.
She had become the focal point of their lives, the one they would protect at all costs.
They watched the video repeatedly, almost obsessively, terrified that they had missed something–anything–that would prove Vivienne’s innocence.
They desperately wished it weren’t true.
But after a long, suffocating silence, they finally looked at each other—it was as if the truth had struck them both at the same time like a bolt of lightning.
Panic.
They began to mind-link me repeatedly, desperate now.
However, there was no response.
None at all.
Just then, the phone rang.
It was the grave keeper.
“Hello, is this Liora’s family?”
The voice on the other end of the queue was unusually calm.
“I’m calling to confirm-should her ashes be scattered into the sea, as she wished?”
A sharp pause.
Then-
“What? What are you talking about?”
My father’s voice trembled and was barely coherent.
“What happened to my daughter?”
For the first time, real panic filled their eyes.
“Has…has Liora really died?” my mother whispered, her voice cracking and nearly inaudible.
“Was she really suffering from silver dust corrosion? Did we… did we truly misunderstand her?”
Without saying anything else, my father transformed into a wolf and bolted, followed closely by my mother as they raced towards the graveyard.
“You’re late,” the gravekeeper announced solemnly as they arrived, out of breath.
“Your daughter died hours ago. She had chosen a grave for herself, but she couldn’t afford it—she had no silver coins.”
“You’re lying!” my father yelled, fury overtaking grief.
“You’re just saying this to help her fool us again!”
In his rage, he grabbed the gravekeeper by the collar and ripped it apart.
“This is all we found in her pocket,” the keeper explained quietly, handing them a single photograph.
It was a picture of the entire family.
“My baby! My daughter!”
My mother collapsed with a scream, pounding her chest with clenched fists as if she were tearing her own heart out.
