Chapter 6: My Mother’s Last Warning
I didn’t read the letter there.
Not in front of them.
Not while my father stood there waiting to see how much damage he had done.
I took the envelope and walked back to my car.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to sit for a minute before opening it again.
The paper smelled old.
Like it had been stored away for years.
Like someone had hidden a piece of my mother from me.
I unfolded it.
My sweet Nathan,
If you are reading this, you are finally old enough to know the truth.
I swallowed.
First, I need you to understand something. Your father loved you when you were born. I believe that. I believe there was a good man inside him.
I stopped.
A painful smile crossed my face.
Even after everything, my mother was protecting him.
That sounded exactly like her.
But grief can change people. Pain can make people become someone they never thought they could be.
I kept reading.
After I became sick, I noticed your father changing. He became angry. He blamed himself. Then he started blaming everyone around him.
My eyes moved faster.
I was afraid that after I was gone, he would push away the people who reminded him of me.
I closed my eyes.
She knew.
She knew before anyone else.
That is why I created the trust. Not because I expected you to need money. Because I wanted you to have security if the worst happened.
A tear fell onto the paper.
I wanted you to always have a choice.
Choice.
That word hurt.
Because for the past nine days, I had no choices.
I had survived.
That was all.
Then I reached the final page.
And my mother’s handwriting changed.
It became more rushed.
There is something else you need to know.
I held my breath.
Your father made a promise to me.
I looked up.
The dark parking lot surrounded me.
He promised that if he ever struggled with his feelings toward you, he would seek help. He promised he would never punish you for a pain you did not create.
My hands tightened.
Then I read the final sentence.
If he breaks that promise, Nathan, do not spend your life trying to earn love from someone who has already chosen not to give it.
I stared at the words.
For years, I had done exactly that.
I worked harder.
Stayed quieter.
Asked for less.
I thought if I became easier to love, maybe my father would finally choose me.
My phone rang.
Claire.
I answered.
“Hello?””
“Nathan?””
“Yeah.””
“Did you read the letter?””
“Yes.””
There was silence.
“She told me she was worried.””
Claire sighed.
“She was.””
“What happened after she died?””
Claire hesitated.
“I think you should hear that from someone else.””
“Who?””
“Your father.””
I laughed.
“No.””
“Nathan.””
“No.””
My voice became sharper.
“I’ve heard enough from him.””
Claire was quiet.
Then she said:
“Have you?””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Have you really?””
I didn’t answer.
“Because there’s something your father never told you.””
My stomach tightened.
“What now?””
“The trust wasn’t the only thing your mother created.””
I looked at the letter.
“What else?””
“A file.””
“What kind of file?””
“One containing evidence.””
“Evidence of what?””
Claire lowered her voice.
“Everything that happened after she died.””
The next day, I skipped school.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
I drove to Claire’s office.
She had prepared a box.
Not a folder.
Not a few papers.
A box.
That alone terrified me.
“What is this?””
She pushed it toward me.
“Your mother kept records.””
“Of my father?””
“Of everyone.””
I opened it.
Inside were bank statements.
Medical records.
Letters.
Photographs.
The first document I picked up was dated two years after my mother died.
It was a withdrawal request.
My father’s signature was at the bottom.
The amount:
$12,000.
Purpose:
Household expenses.
I looked at Claire.
“That’s from the trust?””
“Yes.””
“Was that allowed?””
“No.””
I flipped through more papers.
Another withdrawal.
Then another.
The numbers kept growing.
“He took all of it?””
Claire shook her head.
“Not all.””
“Then where is the rest?””
Her expression changed.
“I don’t know.””
I looked at the papers.
“What do you mean you don’t know?””
“Your father moved money between accounts.””
My chest tightened.
“Why?””
Claire looked at me.
“That’s the question.””
I spent the next hour going through everything.
And then I found something.
A document from five years ago.
A transfer.
A large one.
To a company.
I read the name.
Then I froze.
“Karen.””
Claire nodded.
“Yes.””
My hands went cold.
“What is this?””
“I don’t know.””
I looked closer.
The company name meant nothing to me.
But the signature did.
Karen’s.
I looked up.
“My stepmother was involved.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Claire didn’t answer.
Because she didn’t know.
May you like
But someone did.
And I knew exactly who.
