Chapter 6: The Letter My Mother Hid
For several seconds, I couldn't bring myself to touch the envelope.
My mother's handwriting was unmistakable.
The slightly slanted letters. The way she crossed her T's. The tiny heart she'd always drawn beside my name whenever she wrote me a birthday card.
But this wasn't a birthday card.
It had been sealed, hidden, and deliberately kept away from me.
And now I understood why.
Evelyn closed the office door.
“Would you like me to leave you alone?””
I shook my head.
“No. Please stay.””
She pulled a chair beside mine.
Richard quietly placed a glass of water on the desk before stepping outside.
I ran my finger beneath the envelope's flap.
Inside was a folded letter, a small photograph, and a document bearing the signature of my mother's attorney.
I unfolded the letter first.
My dearest Lily,
If Evelyn has given you this envelope, then the day I feared has probably arrived.
I wish I could sit beside you and explain everything myself. I wish I could hold your hands, brush your hair away from your face, and tell you that none of this is your fault.
But if you're reading this, I need you to be brave.
There are people who will tell you that I was selfish. That I destroyed a family. That I made decisions without considering the people I loved.
Some of those people may even have convinced your father that they are telling the truth.
Please remember this: protecting yourself from someone who hurts you is not betrayal.
I stopped reading.
My eyes filled.
Evelyn gently touched my shoulder.
“Take your time.””
I wiped my cheeks and continued.
Your father and I had problems long before Patricia entered our lives. I won't pretend otherwise. But I never knew how much of our marriage had been built on things he wasn't telling me.
I discovered that he had been moving money from our joint accounts into an account I didn't recognize.
When I asked him about it, he told me I was imagining things.
Later, I discovered that Patricia was helping him.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
I wanted to believe there was an explanation. I wanted to believe the man I married was still somewhere inside the man standing in front of me.
But I eventually understood that love cannot survive when someone repeatedly asks you to ignore the truth.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Did you know about this?””
She nodded slowly.
“Your mother told me some of it. She was frightened, Lily. Not of Patricia herself, but of what would happen to you if she wasn't around to protect you.””
I looked back at the letter.
*I made arrangements to protect our home and your future. Margaret has copies of the documents. Evelyn has copies of the original design agreements.
Mr. Harris has the personal items I wanted you to receive.*
There is one more thing.
The money in your education trust was never intended to support your father's new family. It was yours.
If anyone has taken it, please don't let them convince you that you should feel guilty for asking for it back.
And Lily, sweetheart, don't spend your life trying to prove that you're worth loving.
You already are.
Love always,
Mom.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except my own breathing.
Then I noticed the photograph.
It showed my mother sitting at a restaurant table with Evelyn.
Beside them was a young man.
My father.
He looked different. Younger, obviously, but his expression was what caught my attention.
He wasn't smiling.
He was looking at something outside the frame.
On the back, my mother had written:
The last evening I believed we could fix everything.
I turned the photograph over again.
“Why did she keep this?””
Evelyn looked at it.
“Because she loved your father once. People sometimes forget that someone can hurt you terribly and still have been someone you loved deeply.””
I swallowed.
“Did Dad know she left this?””
“No. Your mother asked me not to release it until you were old enough to make your own decisions.””
I picked up the legal document.
It was a notarized declaration confirming that my mother had transferred ownership of the family home into a protected trust.
My name was listed as the sole beneficiary.
My father had been granted permission to live there and maintain the property until I turned eighteen.
He had no authority to sell it.
I stared at the date.
The transfer had been completed four months before my mother died.
“Then the house is mine.””
Evelyn nodded.
“Yes.””
“And Dad knew?””
“I suspect he did.””
I leaned back.
Suddenly, I remembered the conversation I'd overheard downstairs.
Until the house is sold.
He had been planning to sell something he didn't own.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Margaret Ellis.
Lily, I have received the documents from the title company. Your father's attempt to initiate a sale is legally unauthorized. Please do not sign anything he sends you.
I showed Evelyn.
She nodded.
“Margaret is handling this correctly.””
Then my phone rang.
Dad.
I answered.
“Hello?””
“Where is the document?”” he demanded.
“What document?””
“Don't play games with me, Lily. Patricia told me you've been shown something.””
I looked at Evelyn.
“I'm not signing anything.””
His voice sharpened.
“You have no idea what you're doing.””
“I know the house belongs to me.””
Silence.
Then he laughed.
A short, humorless sound.
“Your mother always had a way of making herself look like the victim.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Don't talk about her like that.””
“You think she was perfect? You think she didn't make mistakes?””
“I'm asking you about the house.””
“Your mother was going to leave us with nothing!””
I closed my eyes.
“That's not true.””
“She changed everything behind my back.””
“She protected what belonged to me.””
His breathing became heavier.
“Lily, listen to me. Patricia and I have invested years into that property. We have expenses.
Renovations. Taxes.””
“Then show the receipts.””
He went quiet.
“Come home,” he finally said.
“I'm not coming home to be shouted at.””
“I'm your father.””
“And I was your daughter when you let Vanessa destroy my dress.””
Silence.
I continued.
“I was your daughter when you ignored me. When you hid the scholarship letter. When you allowed Patricia to treat me like a guest in my own home.””
“That's enough.””
“No, Dad. It isn't.””
He lowered his voice.
“You're making a terrible mistake.””
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
Evelyn waited until I looked up.
“Would you like some advice?””
I nodded.
“Don't confuse being calm with being weak. You can be respectful and still refuse to be manipulated.””
I let out a shaky breath.
“Thank you.””
She smiled.
“Now, there's something else I want to show you.””
She walked to a cabinet and removed a large portfolio.
Inside were dozens of sketches.
My mother's unfinished collection.
There were dresses, jackets, evening gowns, and experimental pieces made from unusual combinations of fabric.
But one sketch caught my attention.
A blue satin gown covered in crimson roses.
The same design I'd unknowingly recreated.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Why does this look like my prom dress?””
“Because it was the original inspiration.””
I stared at the sketch.
Evelyn placed a finger on the handwritten title.
The Rose After Rain.
“Your mother wanted this collection to be her final statement as a designer. She believed it would show women that beauty wasn't something you lost after hardship.””
I touched the page.
“She wanted to finish it with me?””
“Yes.””
“Then I want to.””
Evelyn's eyes softened.
“Are you sure?””
I nodded.
“I don't want to spend my whole life wondering what she would've created.””
Evelyn smiled.
“Then we'll begin tomorrow.””
She handed me a folder.
Inside was my scholarship agreement.
I signed it with trembling fingers.
For the first time, I wasn't signing something because someone expected me to.
I was signing something because I wanted it.
That evening, Ethan and I walked through the city.
We stopped at a small café near the studio.
He ordered hot chocolate for both of us.
“You look different,” he said.
I smiled.
“Different how?””
“Like you're not carrying the whole world on your shoulders.””
I stirred my drink.
“Maybe I'm finally putting some of it down.””
He reached across the table.
“You know, you don't have to do everything alone.””
I looked at him.
“I know.””
For a while, we sat quietly.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Vanessa.
You think you've won?
Another message appeared.
Mom knows about the trust. Dad is furious.
Then a photograph.
It showed my bedroom.
My sewing machine was gone.
My mother's wooden box was sitting on the floor, its contents scattered.
And beside it was a handwritten note.
Come home if you want the rest of your mother's things.
I stared at the screen.
Ethan leaned closer.
“What happened?””
I showed him.
His expression hardened.
“They're holding your mother's belongings hostage.””
I looked at the photograph again.
Then I noticed something.
The small silver necklace my mother had left me was missing.
I had thought I'd packed it in my purse.
But it wasn't there.
My breathing stopped.
Because Vanessa had sent another message.
By the way, I found something interesting inside that wooden box.
And beneath it was a picture of a second envelope.
One I'd never seen before.
Its front carried a name.
Not mine.
May you like
Not my father's.
*Patricia.*
