Shonee's POV

"Bye, guys!"

"Byee."

I waved at them before Jordin sped off the mansion premises. Then I let myself into the house, checking my messages for any updates from Vincent regarding Ruben's death. But he hadn't sent anything.

I had just made it past the foyer to the living room when a familiar voice exclaimed, "Shonee!"

Gerta walked in, tucking an empty tray under her armpit. "Good, I was wondering when you'd return. You have a visitor waiting for you."

"Really?" I shoved my phone into my pocket. "Who is it? Cuz I'm not expecting anyone."

"Oh, are you sure? Because this gentleman says he's your father."

My head shot up. "My what?"

"Your father," Gerta cautiously repeated. "He says he sent you on an errand to Lynnfield this morning. That's where you said you were going to, right?"

All of a sudden, my mouth felt dry.

The anonymous tipper. No...I vigorously shook my head. There was no way it could be him. This was probably just some sick joke.

"Shonee?" Gerta drew closer, concern taking over her features. "Are you—"

"Where is he?" The question came out dry and hoarse, and I couldn't tell if it was from the sudden shock or fear or both.

To answer, Gerta pointed at the open sliding doors. "In the patio. I just served him some juice."

Tossing my handbag on the sofa, I marched out of the living room, a cool dusk breeze welcoming me. I turned left to where the table and chairs were and froze. Lo and behold, a slim, dark figure sat at the table, chugging down orange juice like his life depended on it. When he finished the drink, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then his eyes casually flickered over to me, and he jerked up from his seat. 

"Oh... wow..." He fumbled with the worn-out jacket covering his frame. "Wow...you look..." The man with a scruffy beard stepped forward. "You look just like your mum." The sentence came with a nervous chuckle, but it faded off the moment he noticed my frown deepen.

"Quit the jokes and tell the truth!" I snapped. "You're not my father, are you?"

"Yes, I-I mmean no, I'm, I'm your father, Shonee." He managed to stop stammering. "My name is Ian Coleman, and I am your birth father."

Birth father? I shook my head, taking a step back. My heart thudded so hard in my chest that it felt like it would pop out any minute from now.

Sensing the rejection wafting off me, Ian put his hands up. "Look, Shonee, I know this is a lot for you to take in, but you have to believe me: I am your father. Your mother and I got engaged on 20th March, her birthday. I proposed to her at the crack of dawn on a hilltop, overlooking the most beautiful scenery on Earth. Denise..." His eyes dropped to the ground, fondly recalling the memory. "Denise loved it so much that she named you after that dawn: Shonee, for the light of a new day."

My breath caught in my throat. Back when my mother was alive, she had told me once that my name was linked to a special moment in her life. But I never knew what that moment was until now.

Ian nervously wrung his hands. "This is all so hard to believe...but I want you to know that I never once forgot you or your mother. You were both my whole world an—"

"Your whole world?" I cut him with a malicious scoff. "If we were that important to you, then why did you leave us?"

"No!" He trudged forward. "You've-you've got it all wrong, Shonee. I never left you. Denise rather left me...and I couldn't really blame her, I mean..." His shoulders shook, remorse touching his features. "When you came into our lives... I wasn't responsible enough to be a father. I made mistakes, things I never should have done. And I regret them more than anything else because it cost me my family." As he said that last part, his voice broke and he lifted his hand to quickly brush away a stray tear.

I would be lying if I said his remorse didn't touch my heart. This ragged, penitent old man claiming to be my father was pulling some strings of forgiveness that I didn't even know I had in me.

"E-enough of this!" Ian cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "This isn't why we're here. This isn't why I'm here." Then his eyes flickered over to me with a question. "The house lady, she told me that you went to Lynnfield today. That means you got my text?"

"Yes, I got your text!" I sniped, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate him. He might be my father, but right now, we were dealing with a serious matter. "I can't believe you're the anonymous tipper! You threatened to kill Mirasol!"

Ian quickly took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, no, that wasn't me. That was all Ruben, I swear."

My eyebrows dipped low. "Ruben? Wait, you knew Ruben?"

"Yes," he cautiously responded. "He was the one who found me and told me about you."

Ian paused, gauging my facial expression, which was mostly filled with shock.

"He said that you were friends, that he could introduce me to you, and fix me back into your life...under the condition that I help him."

"Help him?" I frowned. "Help him with what?"

"I dunno," Ian mumbled. "He never got the chance to tell me, but I think it had something to do with Nancy Beckham."

Another wave of surprise hit me in the face. "Nancy? How is Nancy involved in this?"

Without answering my question, Ian turned back to the patio table and pushed a hand into the plastic bag he'd brought with him. "The day Ruben got arrested, I received this package with instructions to send you the Lynnfield address." He pulled out a bundle still wrapped in brown paper and handed it over to me.

"When I got it, I was scared," he confessed. "We hadn't met, and I wasn't sure how you'd receive me, so I kept it, thinking I could give it back to Ruben to send it himself. But then he got killed...and I knew I didn't have any other choice."

Curious, I peeled off the brown paper wrapping on the package. "A journal?" I pulled out the old, worn-out book. "I don't get it; what has this got to do with Nancy?"

"Well, the journal originally belonged to Johnson Stewart, and he chronicled everything that happened the moment he started courting Nancy Beckham in secret. It has details on everything: their time in Florida and New York, Nancy's fake accident, the—"

"Wait!" I quickly stopped him. "Did you just say fake accident?"

"Yeah." Ian nodded. "The so-called accident that she miraculously survived was fake. It was all a lie. Nancy was never even in the car to begin with. It was all staged so she could get away from the Beckhams and start a new life with Johnson."

The expression on my face was one of pure shock and horror. I was beyond stunned.

"The whole thing was Johnson's idea, and it's all in the journal. Here, let me open it for you." Ian took the book from me, unfastening the belt lock on it. Paper rustled violently until Ian came to a stop on a particular page and handed it back to me. "This is the entry. November 2nd, 2022."

My eyes glazed over the scrawny handwriting.

It's all set in stone. The crash will take place tomorrow evening. I even managed to pull some strings to get a drug-addicted ex-con as a decoy. (Donatello is one nasty guy, but no matter what, he always comes through.) Once the accident takes place and the cops get involved, they'll think the body is Nancy's since it'll be burnt beyond recognition. And then by morning, Nancy Beckham will officially be dead to the world and I will have her and all her riches to myself.

I still can't believe I'm going to be a father. Honestly, the pregnancy couldn't have come at a better time. I do hope it's a boy, though...

I couldn't read anymore. I just couldn't... "I need to sit down."

"Uh sure..." Ian pulled out a chair for me before taking the one next to him.

"Oh my God..." I rubbed both hands over my face. "Do you know what this means? It means everything we know or thought we knew about Nancy Beckham was a total lie. She didn't just lie to Vincent, the Beckhams or the cops; she lied to New York. She lied to everyone."

Ian nodded in agreement. "Yep. I have to admit, it was a well-thought-out plan. I mean, if it wasn't for this journal, no one would've discovered the truth."

Then a wave of realisation hit me. "That's it! That's why Ruben had this..." I picked up the journal. "It was his leverage against Nancy. They worked together to get rid of Michael. So, if anything happened and Nancy turned on him..."

"He'd use the journal to expose her," Ian finished with a surprised look. "But Ruben is dead."

"I know. Nancy probably got to him sooner than he expected. That's why he sent the journal to you. So someone else would have the chance to do what he couldn't do."

Ian leaned back in his seat, surprise still covering his face. "Wow."

Quickly, I dug a hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone to call Vincent. But I hadn't even opened my call log when a call came through and sent a flush of goosebumps up my skin.

I stared at the glowing screen with fear. "Unknown number." 

******
Hi everyone,

What do you make of this week's chapters? Nancy's secret life isn't a secret anymore and it's only a matter of time before Shonee strikes back with this newfound knowledge! Want to see how things play out? Then be on the lookout for the next update, same time next week Friday!

Also, thank you all so much for the love you've been given the BSA series. I'm forever grateful for the support a lot. Wishing you a wonderful weekend♥️