Chapter 4: The Letter My Wife Left Behind
For twelve years, I had avoided opening that envelope.
Not because I was afraid of what it contained, but because I had convinced myself there was nothing left to discover.
My wife, Margaret, had been gone for twelve years. I had watched her take her final breath in a hospital room filled with the smell of disinfectant and dying flowers. I had held her hand until the nurses gently asked me to let go.
I remembered the last thing she said to me.
"Richard, promise me you'll look after the children.""
I had promised.
And I had spent every day since trying to keep that promise.
Now, standing in my living room with my son, daughter, and daughter-in-law, I was beginning to wonder whether Margaret had been trying to warn me about something.
I picked up the envelope.
My fingers trembled as I recognized her handwriting.
*Richard, only read this if Daniel returns.*
Emma moved closer.
"Dad, is that Mum's handwriting?""
"Yes.""
Ethan stared at the envelope.
"Why would Mum leave something addressed to you about Uncle Daniel?""
"I don't know.""
Sophia suddenly stepped forward.
"Maybe we should leave this for another day.""
I looked at her.
"Why?""
"Because you're upset. You've had a terrible evening, and I think you're making decisions emotionally.""
Emma folded her arms.
"That's interesting advice from someone who just fabricated an assault.""
Sophia glared at her.
"Can you stop attacking me for five minutes?""
"No," Emma replied.
"Not while you're standing here trying to control what Dad reads.""
I carefully broke the seal.
Inside was a handwritten letter, several pages long, along with a small photograph.
The photograph showed Margaret sitting on a park bench beside Daniel.
It was dated three weeks before her death.
I frowned.
I remembered that afternoon.
Daniel had told me he was taking Margaret to see an old friend. She had returned unusually quiet, claiming she was tired.
I unfolded the letter.
My wife's first sentence made my knees weaken.
My darling Richard, if you are reading this, Daniel has probably come back into our lives for a reason. And I am afraid that reason concerns the house.
I stopped reading.
Ethan moved closer.
"What does it say?""
I continued.
There is something I discovered about my brother shortly before I became ill. I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect you, and because I wasn't certain how much of it was true.
My eyes moved down the page.
*Daniel borrowed money from me several times. At first, he said it was for his business. Then he began asking for larger amounts.
When I refused, he became angry. He told me that because I had no children of my own, my inheritance should eventually benefit him too.*
Emma covered her mouth.
Daniel had no children. He had never married. Margaret had always been the closest person in his life.
I kept reading.
He asked me to sign a document giving him authority over certain family assets. I refused. After that, he began telling people that I was becoming confused. He said I was forgetting conversations and making poor decisions.
I felt the room tilt.
Those were the exact accusations Sophia had been making against me.
I looked at Ethan.
"Your uncle used the same words about your mother.""
Ethan shook his head.
"That's impossible.""
I continued.
Richard, I don't know whether Daniel is planning something terrible. But I know he has been asking questions about our property, our savings, and the children's inheritance. I spoke to a solicitor, and I changed the arrangements.
The next paragraph was underlined twice.
Whatever happens, do not sign anything Daniel brings you. Do not let him convince you that you are incapable of making your own decisions.
My throat tightened.
At the bottom of the page, Margaret had written:
There is one more thing. I found out who helped Daniel obtain information about our finances. I never confronted that person because I wanted to be certain. The evidence is hidden in the place where you keep my wedding ring.
I stopped.
My wedding ring.
I had kept Margaret's ring in a small wooden jewelry box inside the wardrobe.
For twelve years.
Emma gently touched my shoulder.
"Dad?""
I looked at her.
"She knew.""
"Who?""
"Your mother knew someone was helping Daniel.""
Ethan sat down heavily.
"Does it say who?""
I shook my head.
"No. She says the evidence is hidden.""
Sophia shifted uncomfortably.
"Richard, this letter was written twelve years ago. You can't assume anything in it has anything to do with what's happening now.""
I looked at her.
"You're right. I can't assume.""
I folded the letter.
"But I can investigate.""
Sophia picked up her handbag.
"I'm leaving.""
Ethan stood.
"You're not going anywhere until we finish talking.""
She spun around.
"Excuse me?""
"Who is helping Uncle Daniel?""
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
"Then tell me why you were photographing Dad's documents.""
"Because I was trying to protect our future!""
"By stealing from my father?""
Her face twisted.
"You always choose him!""
Ethan stared at her.
"He's my father.""
"And I'm your wife!""
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Sophia walked to the door.
Ethan didn't stop her.
She opened it, stepped outside, and turned back.
"You'll regret humiliating me.""
The door slammed.
Emma exhaled.
"Good riddance.""
Ethan remained standing.
"She's still my wife.""
"I know," I said.
He looked at me.
"I don't know what to do.""
I studied my son.
He looked like the little boy who used to sit on the kitchen floor whenever he was afraid of thunderstorms.
I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder.
But my cheek still hurt.
And I wasn't ready.
"First, you tell the truth. Then you decide what kind of man you want to be.""
He nodded.
Emma helped me upstairs.
My bedroom smelled faintly of cedarwood and the lavender soap Margaret used to keep beside the sink.
I opened the wardrobe.
At the bottom sat the wooden jewelry box.
Inside were her earrings, a silver bracelet, and the wedding ring I had placed there after her funeral.
I lifted the velvet lining.
Beneath it was a small brass key and a folded piece of paper.
The paper contained a handwritten address.
And beneath the address were four words:
*The safety deposit box.*
I stared at the key.
I remembered the bank.
Margaret had rented a small safety deposit box shortly before her death. She told me it contained documents she wanted to keep safe.
After the funeral, I had tried to access it, but the bank informed me that my name wasn't listed as an authorized person.
I had assumed she had changed her mind.
Now I understood.
I turned the paper over.
There was another sentence written in her handwriting.
If Daniel is involved, don't go alone.
Emma read it over my shoulder.
"Dad, we're going to the bank tomorrow.""
I nodded.
But before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
Margaret's wedding ring.
Not the one in the box.
The one I was holding.
The message beneath it read:
*You should have left the past buried, Richard. Daniel isn't the only person who knows what's inside that box.*
I looked at Emma.
She had gone pale.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
*Ask your daughter what she did the night your wife died.*
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