“Don’t go back alone. Don’t answer her calls. And don’t call Grandpa.”
That made me glance at him sharply.
“My father?”
“He knows something,” Liam said. “Maybe not all of it.”
A heavy silence filled the car.
“Start from the beginning,” I said.
He took a slow breath.
“Three years ago, one of my doctors said I had more movement than they expected. He wanted me to push harder in rehab. Said fear might be holding me back.”
I frowned. “We were told recovery wasn’t likely.”
“He only said that when Mom was in the room,” Liam replied. “Afterward, she’d tell me the doctors were giving false hope. Then she started canceling therapy. Told you insurance wouldn’t pay.”
“I saw the denial letters…”
“She made them.”
My grip tightened on the wheel.
“Why would she do that?”
He hesitated.
“Because being my mom got her attention,” he said quietly. “Donations. Sympathy. People praising her.”
