The desert stretched endlessly before us, an ocean of red sand and jagged rocks beneath a sky that looked too big to be real. The interstate was barren, save for the occasional tumbleweed rolling across the asphalt. We'd been driving for hours, heading from Texas to Utah in the sweltering heat, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the crackle of static on the radio to keep us company. I should've known, right then, that something was wrong. But we were a family, and families pretend. We pretend until we can't anymore.

Mom was in the front seat, chewing on her lip, her eyes fixed on the horizon as if she could drive us straight out of our problems. Dad gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality, his knuckles white, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. And in the backseat, I sat between my brother, Nate, and my sister, Kara. Nate was scrolling through his phone, and Kara stared blankly out the window, earbuds jammed into her ears, lost in her own world. We were pretending that everything was fine, just another family road trip. But the silence felt heavy, like a storm gathering on the edge of the world.

The first secret came out somewhere outside Amarillo.

It was a stupid argument, something about the AC not working right and who should've been responsible for getting it fixed. But it escalated faster than I expected. Dad slammed his fist on the dashboard, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the confined space of the car.

"I told you to take care of it," Mom snapped, her voice brittle, like she'd been holding it in for years.

"I have enough on my plate without you adding more," Dad growled back, his eyes never leaving the road.

"That's always your excuse, isn't it? 'Enough on my plate.'" Mom's voice wavered, and I noticed her hands were shaking. "But you don't tell them, do you? You don't tell them where you've really been going when you disappear for hours."

Dad's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting mine for a split second before darting away. "That's enough, Lila."

"No, it's not enough," Mom hissed. "Tell them. Tell them what kind of man their father really is."

The tension in the car snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. I felt Nate stiffen beside me, and Kara pulled her earbuds out, her eyes wide with confusion.

"What's she talking about?" Nate asked, his voice low.

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Dad didn't answer at first. His knuckles tightened on the wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice cold and detached. "I've been seeing someone. Another woman."

The words hung in the air, sharp and jagged, cutting through the silence. My stomach dropped, and I glanced at Mom, her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.

"How long?" Kara whispered from the other side of the car, her voice small, fragile.

"Long enough," Dad replied. "But that's not the worst of it."

I felt a chill creep down my spine as he continued, his voice growing darker with each word. "I've been... doing things. Things no one should know about. It started small. A little gambling, some debts I had to pay off. But then it got out of hand. People got hurt."

"What do you mean 'hurt'?" Nate asked, his voice hard.

Dad didn't look at any of us. "I'm not talking about a fistfight, Nate. I'm talking about people disappearing. Permanently."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Kara started crying softly, and I felt my own heart pounding in my chest, the weight of his words sinking in. Our father—our father—wasn't just cheating. He was a killer.

"Why would you tell us this now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dad let out a bitter laugh. "Because I'm tired of pretending. And I know I'm not the only one with secrets."

He was looking at Mom now, a sneer curling his lips. "Go on, Lila. Tell them."

Mom flinched, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn't back down. "It's not the same," she said softly.

"No?" Dad shot back. "How about the fact that you've been lying to them their whole lives? Go on, tell them the truth."

I stared at Mom, my heart in my throat. "Mom, what's he talking about?"

She looked at me then, her eyes red, her hands trembling. "You're not... You're not his."

The world tilted beneath me, the car spinning in slow motion. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. "What?"

"None of you," she whispered. "Nate, Kara, you... none of you are his."

I couldn't speak. Nate slammed his hand against the window, a choked sob escaping him. Kara's tears flowed freely now, her face buried in her hands. We weren't his. All this time, we'd been living a lie.

"I was scared," Mom continued, her voice barely audible. "I didn't know what to do. He wasn't always like this. I thought I could fix it, but..."

"Don't you dare put this on me," Dad snarled. "You've been lying to them their whole lives. How does that make you any better?"

We were falling apart. I could feel it, the fragile bonds holding us together snapping one by one. I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything but sit in that car and listen to the life I thought I knew crumble around me.

But then Nate spoke, his voice cold and hollow. "You think you're the only ones with secrets?"

We all turned to look at him. His face was pale, his eyes dark. "I've been hiding something too."

"What could possibly be worse than this?" Kara whispered, her voice shaking.

Nate smiled then, a twisted, eerie smile. "I know what Dad's been doing. And I've helped."

The car swerved as Dad jerked the wheel in shock. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Nate's smile widened. "You think those people just disappeared on their own? I made sure they stayed gone. Permanently."