Chapter 6: The Letter My Mother Never Sent
My father didn't reach for the envelope.
"Explain yourself first," he said.
Vanessa stood in the attic doorway, one hand gripping the frame as though she needed it to remain upright.
For once, she wasn't wearing the confident expression that had made everyone in our house afraid to challenge her.
She looked exhausted.
"Claire was going to destroy everything," she whispered.
My father stared at her.
"What was she going to destroy?""
"Our family.""
"By investigating missing money?""
Vanessa's eyes flicked toward the journal.
"You don't understand what she was doing.""
"Then help me understand.""
She shook her head.
"She thought she was saving you. She believed someone was stealing from your business, and she became obsessed with proving it. She stopped sleeping.
She called people at all hours. She accused everyone around her.""
"Did you steal the money?"" I asked.
Vanessa looked at me as if she'd forgotten I was there.
"This is an adult matter.""
"I'm seventeen, and you're standing in front of me with a letter about my dead mother. You don't get to decide that I'm too young to hear the truth.""
My father placed a hand on my shoulder.
"She's right.""
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Then she stepped into the attic.
"I didn't take money from Michael's company," she said.
"But I knew who was doing it.""
My father's jaw tightened.
"Who?""
She hesitated.
"The man in that photograph.""
"The business partner who died?""
"His name was Robert Hale. He and Claire had been friends long before I met either of them.""
My father looked stunned.
"Claire never mentioned him.""
"Because she knew you didn't trust him.""
"Why would I have trusted him with my company if I didn't trust him?""
Vanessa gave a humorless laugh.
"Because he was charming. He knew how to make people believe whatever he wanted them to believe.""
I glanced at the photograph again.
"What did Mom discover?""
Vanessa lowered herself onto an old trunk.
"Robert had been transferring company money into accounts no one knew existed. Claire found the records because she helped organize the paperwork after your company expanded. She realized the numbers didn't match.""
"Then why didn't she tell me?"" Dad demanded.
"She was afraid he would destroy the evidence before you could act. She wanted to understand how much money was missing.""
My father paced across the attic.
"And you knew about this?""
"Claire told me.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Vanessa looked down at her hands.
"Because Robert threatened me.""
Silence filled the attic.
"He knew things about my past," she continued.
"Things I didn't want exposed. He said if I helped Claire, he would ruin me. He told me he could make sure Madison and I had nothing.""
I studied my stepmother's face.
For years, she'd made me feel small because I had less money than Madison. Now she was admitting that fear of losing money had shaped her decisions long before my mother died.
"What does that have to do with Mom's accident?"" I asked.
Vanessa's lips trembled.
"Claire called me that night. She said she had found proof that Robert had forged Michael's signature on several transfers. She wanted me to meet her and help her get the documents to Eleanor.""
"Did you go?"" my father asked.
Vanessa nodded.
"Yes.""
My stomach tightened.
"Then what happened?""
"I arrived at Claire's house. She was upset. We argued.""
"About what?""
"She said she was going to tell Michael everything. She said she would tell him I had known about the transfers and hadn't reported them.""
My father stared at her.
"Had you?""
Vanessa began to cry.
"Yes.""
He turned away.
For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the attic fan.
Then I asked the question I'd been afraid to ask.
"Were you there when Mom died?""
Vanessa covered her mouth.
"Yes.""
The answer landed between us.
My father grabbed the edge of a shelf.
"What happened?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"I left before the accident. Claire was alive when I walked out.""
"Did you call her afterward?""
"No.""
"Did you tell the police you'd seen her that night?""
Vanessa said nothing.
My father stepped toward her.
"Did you?""
"I was afraid!""
"You let me believe my wife had died without warning. You let me grieve without telling me you'd seen her hours earlier.""
"I didn't know she would die!""
Her voice cracked through the attic.
I wanted to hate her. Part of me did.
But another part couldn't stop wondering whether the missing pieces of my mother's final night were more terrible than anything Vanessa had admitted.
Dad pointed at the envelope.
"What's in there?""
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
"Something Claire gave me that night.""
"Why didn't you hand it over years ago?""
"Because I couldn't.""
"Open it.""
She shook her head.
"You should read it yourself.""
My father picked up the envelope and slid out a folded sheet of paper.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My mother's.
He read the first line silently.
Then his knees seemed to weaken.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He handed me the letter.
At the top, my mother had written my name.
My Emily,
I felt my breath catch.
The letter continued:
If you're reading this, then I wasn't able to explain everything to you myself. I need you to know that I never wanted you to grow up believing you had no family beyond your father and me.
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
Eleanor loves you. If she finds you, please don't let anyone convince you that she is your enemy. There are things I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid of what would happen if the truth came out.
The next sentence had been underlined twice.
Your father deserves to know what I discovered about his business, but he also deserves to know that the person he trusts most may not be the person he thinks she is.
I looked up at Vanessa.
She was crying silently.
My father took the letter from my trembling hands and continued reading.
Then he reached the final paragraph.
His expression changed so dramatically that I felt a fresh wave of fear.
"What?"" I whispered.
"Dad, what does it say?""
He couldn't answer.
I snatched the letter back and read the last lines myself.
Emily, there is one more secret I have kept because I wanted to protect you until I understood the truth.
The night I died, I was on my way to meet someone who claimed to know who your biological father really was.
I read the sentence again.
Then a third time.
My father stared at the page as if it had become a weapon.
"Claire and I were married when Emily was born," he whispered.
Vanessa lifted her tear-streaked face.
"Michael, please—"
He turned toward her.
"Did you know about this?""
She didn't answer.
May you like
And in that silence, I realized the next secret might not be about who had stolen my father's money.
It might be about who I really was.
