Chapter 7: My Mother's Last Letter
The first sentence in my mother's letter made me forget how to breathe.
Emily, if you're reading this, your father has convinced you that I abandoned you, that I was weak, and that everything he did was for your own good. Please, sweetheart, don't believe him.
My fingers trembled so badly that Samantha moved her chair closer.
“Do you want me to read it with you?”” she asked.
I shook my head.
“No. I need to hear her voice.””
The paper smelled faintly of dust and old perfume. My mother had written the letter in blue ink, her handwriting elegant and familiar, with little loops at the ends of her letters.
I had spent twenty-five years believing I barely remembered her.
Now every word brought something back.
Her humming in the kitchen. Her hands braiding my hair. The way she used to kneel beside my bed and promise that no matter how difficult life became, I would never have to face it alone.
I began reading again.
Your father has been moving money from the family company into accounts he controls. When I confronted him, he told me I was imagining things. When I showed him the statements, he accused me of stealing from him.
I have learned that the company shares my father left me were supposed to pass to you. Charles has been using those shares as collateral for debts I never approved.
My stomach twisted.
My mother's inheritance had been stolen before I was old enough to understand what inheritance meant.
I wanted to take you away. I had arranged a place for us to stay, and I had spoken with a lawyer. I planned to tell Charles after I had secured the original records.
But he found the suitcase.
I stopped.
Richard looked down at his hands.
“What suitcase?”” I asked.
He swallowed.
“The one your mother packed for you. She planned to leave the next morning.””
“Did you help her?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did you let her die?””
His face crumpled.
“I have asked myself that question every day for twenty-five years.””
“That's not an answer.””
“No,” he whispered.
“It isn't.””
I wanted to stand up and scream at him. I wanted to demand that he explain every year he had spent beside my father, every family dinner, every birthday card, every time he had looked at me and pretended nothing was wrong.
Instead, I forced myself to keep reading.
If I cannot get these records to the lawyer, I will hide them where Charles will never think to look. I have copied the most important documents, including the original company share register and the bank instructions showing where the money went.
I have also written down the name of the person who helped Charles move the money.
My eyes moved to the next line.
Richard Cole.
I looked up.
Richard went pale.
“You helped him steal from me.””
“I did.””
The admission landed harder than any excuse could have.
“Why?””
“Because Charles told me the transfers were temporary. He said he was protecting the company from a creditor. I believed him at first. By the time I understood what he was doing, I'd already signed documents that helped him conceal it.””
“You could have gone to the police.””
“I should have.””
“You could have told me.””
“I know.””
“Lucas trusted you!””
Richard closed his eyes.
“I know that, too.””
I shoved the letter toward him.
“You stood at my mother's funeral and promised my father would take care of me. You watched him raise me on money he stole from her. You watched me grow up believing I was a burden.””
He didn't defend himself.
That made me angrier.
At least my father had always tried to convince me that his cruelty was justified. Richard had no such excuse left.
Samantha spoke quietly.
“Richard, did you provide Charles with the original records Lucas discovered?””
“No.””
“Did you tell him Lucas had found them?””
Richard hesitated.
That hesitation frightened me more than a confession.
“Yes,” he said.
“I told him Lucas had been asking questions. I thought Charles would negotiate with him. I didn't think—”
“You didn't think my husband would die?”” I interrupted.
“I didn't want him dead.””
“But did you know Charles was capable of hurting him?””
Richard's eyes filled with tears.
“I knew Charles was capable of terrible things.””
Silence settled over the table.
I looked back at the letter.
My mother's final paragraph was written in a different hand pressure, as if she'd been rushing.
Emily, if you ever learn what happened to me, please remember that I loved you enough to try to save you. I am sorry I couldn't keep my promise.
There is one person who knows where I hid the originals. He was very young when I met him, but he has never forgotten what he saw.
His name is Daniel Price.
I read the name aloud.
Samantha immediately wrote it down.
“Who is Daniel Price?”” she asked Richard.
He stared at the letter.
“He was the driver who took Margaret to the lawyer's office.””
“Your father told me my mother died in the hospital,” I said.
“She did die in the hospital,” Richard replied.
“But not in the way he described.””
My hands went cold.
“What are you saying?””
Richard rubbed his face.
“Your mother was involved in a car accident the night she planned to leave. Charles told everyone she had suffered complications from an existing medical condition. He arranged the funeral quickly. He told me not to ask questions.””
“Did you see her medical records?””
“No.””
“Did you see the accident report?””
“No.””
“Then how do you know my father was involved?””
Richard looked at Samantha.
“Because Charles told me he had taken care of the problem.””
My chair scraped backward.
I stood too quickly and felt dizzy.
Samantha caught my arm.
“Emily, sit down.””
“He killed my mother.””
“We don't know that yet,” she said firmly.
“Richard's statement is serious, but it needs to be corroborated. We need the original records, the accident report, and independent evidence.””
Richard nodded miserably.
“I know where Daniel Price lives. I can take you to him.””
Samantha shook her head.
“We'll arrange contact through the appropriate channels. No one should approach him without first preserving what we already have.””
I looked at the letter one final time.
Twenty-five years of my life had been built around a lie.
My father had erased my mother's inheritance, destroyed her reputation, and turned my childhood into a debt I could never repay.
Now he had tried to steal my home while I was carrying Lucas's child.
I folded the letter carefully and placed it in its envelope.
“I'm not running away,” I said.
Samantha met my gaze.
“No one is asking you to.””
“I want every document. Every account. Every person who helped him.””
“We'll pursue the evidence.””
“And I want to know what happened to Lucas.””
Richard lifted his head.
“There is something else you should know about Lucas.””
“What?””
He glanced at the conference-room door again.
“Three days before the accident, your father asked me to arrange a meeting with him. Charles said he wanted to make peace.””
“Did Lucas agree?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
Richard's answer came in a whisper.
“The evening before the crash.””
I stared at him.
“You knew they were meeting?””
“Yes.””
“And you didn't tell the police?””
“I didn't know what happened afterward. Charles told me Lucas had changed his mind and gone home.””
Samantha immediately opened her laptop.
“Where did the meeting take place?””
Richard gave her an address.
An abandoned office building on the outskirts of town.
Then he added a detail that made my blood run cold.
“Charles arrived with a second car. A black SUV. He said he needed someone to follow Lucas afterward.””
I gripped the table.
“Who followed my husband?””
May you like
Richard looked at me, his face drained of color.
“Courtney.””
