Chapter 6: What My Mother Hid
The blue sedan stopped directly across from the hospital.
Noah climbed off my bed.
“That's him.””
My father pulled the curtain shut.
“Stay away from the window.””
I could hear the fear in his voice.
That scared me more than anything.
“Dad, what aren't you telling me?””
He didn't answer.
“Dad.””
He finally turned.
“When your mother died, she left me a letter.””
My breath caught.
“A letter?””
He nodded.
“She told me never to give it to you unless you were in danger.””
I stared at him.
“Seven years, Dad?””
“I thought Julian was a good man.””
“You thought?””
“I was wrong.””
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded envelope.
The paper was yellowed.
My name was written across the front in my mother's handwriting.
*Emily.*
I couldn't move.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because she begged me not to.””
He handed it to me.
“She said Julian would eventually find out.””
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
There were only three pages.
The first line made my stomach turn.
Emily, if you're reading this, someone has finally found the account.
I stopped.
My father whispered, “What account?””
I kept reading.
There is money that belonged to your grandmother. I moved it into an account in your name because I discovered someone was stealing from our family.
I looked up.
“My grandmother?””
Dad nodded slowly.
The letter continued.
The person helping me was Margaret.
My heart sank.
I read faster.
But Margaret betrayed me.
My father sat down.
“What?””
I kept reading.
She told Julian about the money.
The room seemed to tilt.
Julian.
Before he was my husband.
Before our wedding.
Before Noah.
He had known.
The letter continued.
I don't know what Julian wants. I only know he has asked questions about the account, and Margaret has been meeting him behind my back.
I covered my mouth.
“Mom knew him.””
Dad stared at the letter.
“How?””
I turned the page.
There was a photograph taped to the bottom.
My mother.
Julian.
Margaret.
All three standing together.
And Julian looked much younger.
My father whispered, “That's impossible.””
I looked at the date.
It was taken eighteen months before I met Julian.
My whole marriage suddenly felt like a carefully constructed lie.
Noah climbed beside me.
“Mommy?””
I folded the letter.
“It's okay.””
“Is Daddy bad?””
I couldn't answer.
Before I could, someone knocked on the hospital door.
Three slow knocks.
My father stood.
“Stay here.””
The door opened.
Detective Lewis entered.
His face was grim.
“Emily, we need to talk.””
“About the storage unit?””
He nodded.
“We found something.””
“What?””
“A second set of documents.””
He placed a photograph on the table.
It showed my mother sitting at a kitchen table.
Alive.
Healthy.
Holding an envelope.
On the back was a handwritten date.
Eight years ago.
The same month she died.
I stared at it.
“What does this prove?””
Detective Lewis hesitated.
“Your mother may not have died the way you were told.””
My father's face drained of color.
“What are you saying?””
“We checked the original medical report.””
“And?””
“The report says your mother died from a fall down the basement stairs.””
I nodded slowly.
“That’s what we were told.””
Detective Lewis looked directly at me.
“There was no blood found on the stairs.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
“And the bruising pattern on her body didn't match a fall.””
My father staggered backward.
“No…”
Detective Lewis continued.
“The original report was amended three days after her death.””
“By who?””
He didn't answer.
He simply placed another document beside the photograph.
At the bottom was a signature.
My father's signature.
I stared at it.
Dad whispered, “I never signed that.””
Detective Lewis looked between us.
“Then someone forged your signature.””
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
Unknown number.
*Your mother left you one final thing.*
Another message arrived.
*Look inside the kitchen wall.*
I slowly looked toward my father.
May you like
Then toward the hospital door.
And for the first time, I understood why Julian had been so desperate to get me out of that house.
