Chapter 4: The Letter My Mother Never Wanted Me to Read
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
The phone screen glowed in my hand.
One sentence.
Ten words.
A message from a stranger that somehow managed to make the entire room feel colder.
*“Don’t trust Pearl. She never told you the whole truth about your mother’s death.””*
I read it again.
And again.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
No.
That couldn’t be true.
My grandmother Pearl was the one person who had never abandoned me.
When my mother died, Grandma was the person who stayed.
The person who sat beside me when I cried.
The person who packed my lunch for school.
The person who remembered every little thing about my mother that everyone else forgot.
But then I looked up.
And I saw her face.
Not anger.
Not surprise.
Fear.
Just for a second.
But I saw it.
“Emma?”” my father asked.
I quickly locked my phone.
“What is it?””
“Nothing.””
My grandmother looked at me carefully.
“Emma.””
Her voice was gentle.
Too gentle.
And suddenly that scared me more.
Because Grandma Pearl was many things.
Strong.
Honest.
Protective.
But she was never nervous.
I looked down at the envelope in my hand.
My mother’s handwriting was still there.
My name.
Written by the woman I barely remembered but never stopped missing.
“Who sent you that?”” my father asked.
I didn’t answer.
Victoria did.
“Probably someone who knows the truth.””
Everyone turned toward her.
She looked different now.
Not guilty.
Not defensive.
Almost relieved.
Like the attention had finally moved away from her.
Grandma Pearl’s eyes narrowed.
“Be careful, Victoria.””
Victoria laughed softly.
“Why? Because I’m asking questions?””
“No.””
My grandmother’s voice dropped.
“Because you’re hoping Emma will doubt everyone except you.””
Victoria’s face hardened.
“I’m not the one hiding things.””
My father stepped between them.
“Enough.””
But nobody listened.
I looked at my grandmother.
“Grandma.””
The room went silent.
She looked at me.
“What happened to Mom?””
Her expression changed.
“Emma…”
“No.””
My voice shook.
“I need to know.””
My father looked uncomfortable.
“Sweetheart, your mother’s death was a terrible accident.””
I looked at him.
“You said that.””
His face fell slightly.
“I know.””
“But I was six.””
I held up the phone.
“I don’t remember everything.””
Nobody spoke.
“And now someone is telling me there’s something I don’t know.””
Grandma Pearl closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked exhausted.
Not old.
Not weak.
Just tired.
Like she had been carrying something heavy for years.
“Where did you get that message?”” she asked.
“Does it matter?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because whoever sent it knows exactly how to hurt you.””
I stared at her.
“Maybe because they know something you don’t want me to know.””
My words hurt her.
I saw it.
And immediately, I hated myself for it.
But I couldn’t take them back.
My grandmother looked at the envelope.
Then at me.
“Your mother wrote that letter three days before she died.””
My breath caught.
“What?””
My father looked confused.
“She never told me about a letter.””
Grandma Pearl nodded slowly.
“She didn’t want anyone else to know.””
“Why?””
She looked away.
And that answer terrified me.
“Grandma.””
She walked toward the couch and sat down.
For the first time in my life, I saw her look defeated.
“I need to tell you something.””
Victoria crossed her arms.
“Finally.””
My father shot her a warning look.
But Grandma Pearl continued.
“Your mother knew she was getting worse.””
I swallowed.
I knew that part.
The cancer.
The hospital visits.
The doctors who spoke quietly whenever I entered the room.
“But she was also worried about something else.””
My heart started beating faster.
“What?””
Grandma Pearl looked at me.
“She was worried about you.””
I frowned.
“Me?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
My grandmother looked toward Victoria.
And Victoria immediately stiffened.
“No.””
The room froze.
My father looked at her.
“What?””
Victoria shook her head.
“Don’t involve me in whatever story you’re creating.””
Grandma Pearl ignored her.
“Your mother was afraid that after she was gone, someone would try to make Emma forget who she was.””
My stomach dropped.
“Someone?””
Grandma Pearl didn’t answer.
That silence told me enough.
I looked at Victoria.
She looked back at me.
For the first time, neither of us pretended.
“What did my mother know about you?”” I asked.
Victoria’s face went pale.
“Nothing.””
Grandma Pearl stood.
“She knew enough.””
My father looked between them.
“Mom, what are you saying?””
Grandma Pearl walked to the old cabinet near the fireplace.
She opened the bottom drawer.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
She removed one.
A photograph of my mother.
But not alone.
My mother was standing outside a hospital.
And beside her was Victoria.
I stared.
“What?””
My father stepped closer.
“Victoria?””
Victoria’s expression changed completely.
She looked like she wanted to disappear.
“Where did you get that?””
Grandma Pearl looked at her.
“My daughter kept everything.””
I took the photograph.
My hands shook.
“When was this taken?””
Nobody answered.
Then my father noticed something.
A date written on the back.
His face went pale.
“Six months before Emma’s mother died.””
I looked at Victoria.
“You knew my mom?””
Victoria swallowed.
“I met her once.””
Grandma Pearl laughed quietly.
“Once?””
The room became unbearable.
My father turned toward Victoria.
“How many times did you see her?””
Victoria looked away.
“David—”
“How many times?””
She didn’t answer.
And that was all my father needed.
His voice became quieter.
“Victoria.””
“Three.””
Nobody moved.
“Three times,” she admitted.
I stared at her.
“Why?””
She looked at me.
And for the first time, there was something behind her anger.
Fear.
“I didn’t want you to know.””
“Know what?””
She looked at Grandma Pearl.
Then at my father.
Then back at me.
“I knew your mother before I married your father.””
My chest tightened.
“What does that mean?””
Victoria looked at the floor.
“It means…”
She stopped.
My grandmother stepped forward.
“It means your stepmother wasn’t a stranger who entered this family after your mother died.””
The fire cracked behind us.
Nobody spoke.
Then Grandma Pearl finished the sentence.
“She was already connected to your mother’s life.””
I looked at Victoria.
My entire understanding of the past shifted.
The woman who claimed she could never replace my mother…
Had known her.
Before.
Before the wedding.
Before the funeral.
Before she became my stepmother.
“Why?”” I whispered.
Victoria looked at me.
And the answer that came next changed everything.
“Because your mother was the reason I met your father.””
My father froze.
“What?””
Victoria closed her eyes.
And I knew.
May you like
Whatever came next was going to hurt.
“She introduced us.””
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