Chapter 5: The Letter My Mother Hid
Daniel drove me to a hotel near downtown Atlanta.
He didn't ask questions during the journey.
Neither did I.
I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the photograph of my mother's letter.
Rain tapped against the windshield.
The city lights blurred into long golden lines.
After checking into a room, Daniel placed his leather envelope on the desk.
"Lauren, you need to understand something.""
I looked up.
"What?""
"I didn't invite myself into your marriage tonight just because Vanessa was cheating.""
He paused.
"I started investigating because I discovered something about the money.""
"What?""
"Your mother.""
My heart skipped.
"What does she have to do with this?""
Daniel pulled out another document.
It was an old property record.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
Beneath it was a reference to a family trust established shortly before her death.
"I found a transfer request connected to your mother's estate," he explained.
"It was submitted several years ago.""
"By whom?""
"Your husband.""
I stared at the paper.
"But the house was left to me.""
"Yes. And according to the original trust documents, you're also entitled to another asset.""
"What asset?""
Daniel slid the paper toward me.
A bank account.
A very large one.
The balance wasn't listed.
But the account number was.
I recognized the bank.
It was the same institution where Marcus and I held our joint savings.
"Why have I never heard of this?""
"Because someone has been trying to move it without your knowledge.""
I sat down.
"How much money?""
Daniel shook his head.
"I don't know yet. But the investigator found records showing your mother deposited money into that trust for years.""
I thought about my mother working two jobs.
Her old sedan.
The modest house she'd refused to sell.
She had never told me she was wealthy.
"Why would she hide it?""
Daniel looked at the photograph of the letter.
"Maybe she wasn't hiding it from you. Maybe she was protecting it from someone else.""
I opened the photograph again.
The letter was dated three days before my mother's death.
I read it aloud.
"My darling Lauren,
If you're reading this, it means someone has finally started looking into what happened to me.
I wish I could have told you everything while I was alive.
But there are things you need to understand before you trust anyone with your future.
Your sister knows more than she admits.
Your husband knows more than he should.
And the money I left behind was never meant to make anyone rich.
It was meant to give you freedom.""
My eyes filled with tears.
I stopped reading.
Daniel pulled a chair closer.
"Do you want to continue?""
I nodded.
The next paragraph was worse.
"Eight years ago, before your wedding, I discovered that someone had been accessing my financial records without permission.
I confronted the person.
They told me I was confused.
They told me I was getting old.
They told me I should let family handle my affairs.
I refused.""
I covered my mouth.
My mother had been forty-nine.
She hadn't been confused.
She had been frightened.
The letter continued.
"Lauren, if anyone ever tries to convince you that you're incapable of making your own decisions, remember this: I watched them do the same thing to me.
I didn't lose my memory.
I didn't lose my judgment.
I was betrayed.""
I couldn't hold back the tears.
Daniel quietly placed a glass of water beside me.
"There's another page," he said.
I scrolled down.
The final paragraph was only three lines.
"Find the blue box.
It's hidden where your father used to keep his tools.
And whatever you do, never let Emily give you the key.""
I looked up.
"Where my father kept his tools?""
Daniel nodded.
"Do you know where that is?""
"Mom kept his old workshop behind the house.""
My father had died when I was twelve.
The workshop had remained untouched for years.
I suddenly remembered something.
When I married Marcus, Emily had asked to borrow the spare key to the workshop.
She'd said she wanted to retrieve some old photographs.
I'd given it to her.
I hadn't thought about it since.
"Daniel, we need to go to my mother's house.""
"Tonight?""
"Yes.""
He looked at the time.
"It's almost midnight.""
"I don't care.""
He studied my face, then nodded.
Before we could leave, his phone rang.
He answered.
"Hello?""
A man's voice spoke quickly.
Daniel's expression changed.
"When?""
He listened.
"Are you certain?""
Another pause.
Then he stood.
"Lauren, we have a problem.""
My stomach dropped.
"What happened?""
"The investigator went to your mother's house this evening.""
"And?""
"Someone got there before him.""
He turned his phone toward me.
A photograph showed the back door of the old house hanging open.
The workshop window had been smashed.
Someone had searched the room.
And on the workbench, clearly visible in the photograph, was a small piece of paper.
May you like
A handwritten message.
*WE KNOW ABOUT THE BLUE BOX.*
