Page 179 of Broken Destiny

“Oh my God… oh my God…”

My father slowly picked one up while Sophia leaned closer to study it.

No one spoke.

My mother’s fumbling answered the question more loudly than words ever could.

I covered my face with my hands, pressing my palms against my eyes as if I could block out the truth. A sick feeling rolled through my stomach.

Suddenly, Jiya’s heartbreak made sense.

The distance.

The confusion in her eyes.

The way she had looked at me as though I had shattered something inside her.

I remembered the promise I had made to her after the accident with her daughter—that I would never assume things again. Never judge her without listening. Never doubt her love.

And yet I had done it again.

All this time, I had hated her for leaving while she had been carrying the weight of something my own mother had engineered.

I pressed play on the laptop.

The video began running.

No one spoke as the footage played.

By the time it ended, my father looked physically ill.

“You told us she stole the money,” he said slowly, staring at my mother. “You made every single one of us believe she was guilty. And I believed you, Eleanor, and doubted her… hated her for all these years. How could you, Eleanor?”he asked loudly.

My mother broke down into sobs.

“The letter…” Catherine whispered, picking up the page beside her. “This looks like her handwriting.”

“It’s similar,” I said hoarsely. “Close enough that Iconvinced myself it was hers because I wanted answers.” I swallowed hard and pointed toward the page. “But Jiya doesn’t write her ‘m’ and ‘y’ like that.”

I looked back at my mother.

“Tell us everything.”

She shook her head weakly, crying harder.

“Tell us,” my father yelled.

My mother inhaled shakily before speaking.

“This started years ago,” she whispered. “Long before any of you children became involved in the company. Your father trusted me with internal investigations and liability cases. HR directed serious incidents to me, and I handled them personally.”

Dad’s brows pulled together sharply. “You never told me that.”

“I handled it quietly,” she replied.

The knot in my chest tightened further.

“Carlos Sanchez was an employee, an industrial technician. The accident involving him became complicated very quickly, and the potential liability was enormous. If we had taken responsibility for his treatment, it would have set a precedent for every future claim,” she continued. “The lawyers warned me about the financial exposure, the reputational damage, and the legal consequences that could follow.”