Chapter 4 - THE LETTER I NEVER RECEIVED
The room became still.
I looked at Mia.
“What Stanford letter?”
She stepped out of the jacuzzi and wrapped the robe around herself.
“Julian keeps a box in the guesthouse.”
“He said it contains things you were never supposed to see.”
Julian lunged toward her.
Marcus restrained him.
“Mia, stop.”
She looked at him with disgust.
“You said we were leaving together.”
“You said the company would be ours.”
“You were using me.”
Julian’s face hardened.
“You stole from her.”
“You gave me the passwords.”
Rachel stepped between them.
“What is inside the box?”
Mia looked toward Beatrice.
“Letters.”
“Photographs.”
“A copy of Harper’s Stanford scholarship acceptance.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
I had received my acceptance by email.
The university later said physical documents had been mailed.
They never arrived.
I assumed they were lost.
Mia continued.
“There is another letter from Stanford.”
“It says Harper had until August to defer admission.”
I turned toward Julian.
“You told me the scholarship could not be deferred.”
He said nothing.
“You said choosing you meant giving it up permanently.”
Beatrice stepped forward.
“You made your own decision.”
“Did you hide the letter?”
“It was ten years ago.”
“That is not an answer.”
Julian looked toward the floor.
Mia answered for him.
“Beatrice took it from your parents’ mailbox.”
My knees nearly gave way.
My parents had lived in the same home then.
Beatrice visited them often while Julian and I were engaged.
She brought gifts.
She called my mother “family.”
All the while, she had been intercepting my future.
“Why?”
Beatrice lifted her chin.
“Because Stanford would have taken you away.”
“It was two years.”
“Julian would have lost you.”
“That was my choice.”
“You were young.”
“So was he.”
“He needed stability.”
“And you decided my future was less important?”
She did not answer.
Aunt Vivian stepped closer.
“You were always afraid Harper would become more successful than Julian.”
Beatrice’s eyes flashed.
“She already thought she was better than us.”
“I paid your debts.”
“You used money to control everyone.”
The accusation was so absurd that I almost believed she had practiced it.
Julian finally spoke.
“You chose me.”
“I chose you based on a lie.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“You wanted a reason to stay.”
“You were afraid of Stanford.”
“You told me that.”
“I told you I was afraid of leaving you.”
“That is the same thing.”
“It is not.”
The difference was everything.
I had not rejected ambition.
I had trusted the man who said love required sacrifice.
He had known the sacrifice was unnecessary.
Marcus retrieved the box from the guesthouse.
It was hidden beneath floorboards in Julian’s private gym.
Inside were the Stanford letters.
Old photographs of me at twenty-six.
Copies of my parents’ financial statements.
A list of payments I made toward Julian’s loans.
And a handwritten notebook.
Beatrice’s handwriting filled the first page.
HARPER ASSET PLAN.
The notebook began before our wedding.
It documented how much money my parents might give us.
What property I could inherit.
How much my future business might earn.
Beatrice had studied my life like an investment.
Julian had not married a woman he loved.
He had married a future revenue stream.
Then Rachel found a newer entry.
It had been written three months earlier.
If Harper refuses the sale, initiate medical incapacity strategy.
I looked at Julian.
May you like
“What medical strategy?”
His silence told me I had not yet found the worst part.
