Chapter 7: The Letter Behind the Locked Door
At 9:00 the following morning, I returned to my parents' house with Dr. Cole, university counsel, and a digital-forensics specialist named Peter Walsh.
I hadn't slept much.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the signature page and my grandfather's handwriting beside the words protect the family.
I'd also thought about Lila's message.
Come alone.
Bring the original agreement.
She'd made the request sound like a private meeting between sisters, but the conditions were clear enough. She wanted something from me, and she wanted to control the circumstances under which she gave me something in return.
I wasn't going to make that easy.
Dad opened the front door.
His expression darkened when he saw the people standing behind me.
"You brought the entire university?""
"No," I said.
"Just the people responsible for helping establish what happened.""
He stepped aside reluctantly.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table. In front of her was a cup of tea that had gone cold.
Lila stood by the stairs wearing black trousers and a cream sweater. Her hair was neatly arranged, her makeup flawless.
She looked like someone preparing for a business meeting rather than a confrontation about a potentially forged contract.
"You said you'd come alone," she told me.
"I said nothing of the sort.""
"You know what I meant.""
"Yes. That's why I didn't.""
She gave a short laugh.
"Of course. You can't do anything without an audience.""
Dr. Cole stepped forward.
"We're here because you've requested a meeting concerning documents relevant to a university investigation. We ask that all parties preserve any original records and refrain from altering them.""
Lila rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Can we get on with it?""
She disappeared upstairs.
While we waited, I looked around the kitchen.
The counter had been cleaned. The sink was empty. The roll of gray tape was still in the drawer where Mom had taken it the day before.
I wondered how many times she'd opened that drawer since then.
I wondered whether she'd felt guilty.
I wondered whether guilt mattered when someone chose to do nothing.
Mom approached me slowly.
"Emma, I want you to know that I never wanted this to happen.""
I looked at her.
"But you knew something was happening.""
She lowered her eyes.
"Yes.""
"Why did you hand me the tape?""
Her face crumpled.
"I didn't know what else to do.""
"You could have told Lila to stop.""
"I should have.""
"You could have called me a taxi.""
"I should have.""
"You could have told Dad that he was wrong.""
She began crying.
"I know.""
I wanted to comfort her.
That was the terrible part.
Even after everything, I still wanted to make her feel better. I wanted to tell her that we'd work it out, that families made mistakes, that she hadn't meant to hurt me.
But I was tired of turning other people's choices into accidents.
"I'm not asking you to feel bad, Mom," I said quietly.
"I'm asking you to tell the truth.""
Before she could answer, Lila returned carrying a small wooden box.
It was the box Granddad had kept in his study. I recognized the brass latch and the faded initials on the lid.
She placed it on the kitchen table.
"This belonged to Granddad," she said.
"Dad gave it to me after the funeral.""
Dad looked away.
Lila opened the latch.
Inside were several envelopes, a notebook, and a sealed cream-colored letter with my name written across the front.
Emma.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My throat tightened.
"Give me the letter.""
"Not yet.""
Dr. Cole spoke evenly.
"Lila, if this is an original document relevant to the investigation, we'd like to preserve it and arrange an appropriate review.""
"It's a personal letter.""
"Then we can discuss how to handle it while respecting its private nature.""
Lila picked up the envelope.
"Granddad left this to me, too. He trusted me to make sure his wishes were respected.""
I stared at her.
"Why is my name on it?""
"Because he cared about you.""
"Then let me read it.""
She pressed the envelope against her chest.
"Not until you show me the research agreement.""
I looked at her for a long moment.
"You want my university agreement in exchange for a letter addressed to me?""
"I want to know what the university says about ownership.""
"You could ask the university.""
"I have.""
"Then you already know.""
Her jaw tightened.
"I know what you've told them.""
"And you know what the contract says. That doesn't make it true.""
Lila turned toward Dr. Cole.
"This is ridiculous. I'm trying to protect my grandfather's wishes, and Emma is refusing to cooperate.""
Dr. Cole folded her hands.
"Then please explain why you believe possession of her research agreement is necessary before you can provide her with a letter addressed to her.""
Lila opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Finally, she looked at me.
"Because I need to know whether Granddad promised me something he had the right to promise.""
The room went still.
I felt a cold sensation spread through my chest.
"There it is," I said.
"What?""
"You don't want to know what he wrote to me. You want to know whether he gave you permission to sell my work.""
Lila's face flushed.
"I never sold anything.""
"You contacted a licensing company.""
"I was exploring a business opportunity.""
"Using my name.""
"Using information about a technology you developed with family support.""
"My research was funded through the university. I spent five years in the laboratory. You didn't develop the model.""
"I helped you when you needed help.""
"You borrowed my laptop twice.""
"And I supported you emotionally for years!""
I stared at her.
Then I remembered all the times she'd called my research a hobby. All the times she'd mocked my laboratory hours, complained about my conference travel, and asked why I couldn't be more like people who had real jobs.
"You didn't support my research, Lila," I said.
"You tolerated it until you thought it could make you rich.""
She slapped the letter onto the table.
"You think you're better than me.""
"No.""
"Everyone thinks you're better than me. Mom, Dad, Granddad. Even when you were a kid, you were the special one.
Emma the clever one. Emma the one who was going to change the world.""
"Granddad loved you, too.""
"Then why did he leave the letter to you?""
I looked at the envelope.
"Maybe because he had something to tell me.""
Lila's eyes flashed.
"Maybe because he wanted you to share.""
"Then the letter can say that.""
She snatched the envelope off the table.
"No.""
Dr. Cole stood.
"Lila, please place the letter on the table. No one is asking you to surrender your personal property without an appropriate basis. But if you intend to rely on this document to support a claim about the disputed agreement, we need to establish what it actually says.""
Lila backed away.
"You can't force me to give it to you.""
"No one is forcing you to do anything," Dr. Cole replied.
"You may choose to provide it voluntarily, or you may decline. But the university will document that decision, and we will continue examining the other evidence.""
Lila looked at my father.
"Tell them.""
Dad rubbed his face.
"Tell them what?""
"Tell them Granddad wanted us to have a share.""
He stared at her.
"That's what he said.""
"Exactly.""
"He said the family should benefit from Emma's work.""
"Exactly!""
Dad looked at the box.
"But he never said you could sign for her.""
The words fell into the room like a dropped plate.
Lila went pale.
I turned toward my father.
"Did you know she was signing documents in my name?""
"No," he said quickly.
"I knew she was preparing paperwork. I didn't know she'd submitted anything.""
"Did you know about the licensing company?""
"I knew she was talking to someone.""
"Who?""
"I don't know.""
Lila laughed bitterly.
"You're all acting like I invented the idea. Granddad wanted this. Dad wanted this. Mom wanted us to have something after he died.""
Mom shook her head.
"I never wanted you to take Emma's work.""
"You wanted the family to benefit!""
"Not like this.""
Lila looked around the kitchen, searching for someone who would defend her.
No one did.
For the first time, I saw fear behind her anger.
She turned back to me.
"Fine. You want the letter? Read it.""
She tossed the envelope across the table.
It slid toward me and stopped beside my hand.
I picked it up carefully.
The seal was intact.
My name was written in Granddad's familiar hand, and beneath it was a date from three weeks before his death.
I broke the seal.
Inside was a single folded sheet of paper.
I opened it.
The first sentence made my breath catch.
My dearest Emma, if you are reading this, then I have failed to stop someone I love from making a terrible mistake.
I read the sentence again.
Then I looked at Lila.
She was staring at the paper as though she already knew what came next.
And suddenly, I understood why she'd insisted that I come alone.
May you like
She wasn't afraid of what Granddad had written.
She was afraid that I would read the part she'd never been allowed to see.
