Chapter 16 - THE LETTERS
Twenty-three letters.
Graduations missed.
Birthdays missed.
My wedding.
My mother knew I married Adrian.
She wrote six pages begging my father to investigate him.
The letter never arrived.
She knew about my first miscarriage through a private investigator Serena hired.
She wrote that she wanted to come home.
Then someone sent her a photograph of me outside the hospital.
A red circle had been drawn around my body.
She stayed hidden.
I understood.
I still hated it.
Both feelings were allowed.
The final letter was written eight months before my birthday.
Claire, I have made the greatest mistake of my life by believing distance was protection.
If I keep waiting until it is safe, Adrian will decide what safe means forever.
That was when she began planning her return.
Serena helped.
Malcolm agreed to testify after Adrian threatened to move him to another facility.
My father learned Eleanor was alive only three months before my birthday.
That answered one painful question.
He had not known for fourteen years.
Only three months.
“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”
“I wanted proof.”
“Why?”
“Because Margaret spent years convincing me grief made me irrational.”
He looked ashamed.
“I didn’t trust my own mind.”
There it was again.
The same weapon.
Different victim.
I took his hand.
For once, no one apologized.
We just sat.
Then Daniel Reed called.
Adrian wanted a plea agreement.
He would admit financial fraud.
Conspiracy.
Evidence tampering.
Unlawful surveillance.
He wanted assault charges reduced.
He refused to admit intentionally building false evidence about my mental health.
He also refused to admit involvement in Malcolm’s abduction.
My answer was immediate.
“No.”
Daniel paused.
“You understand the final decision is prosecution strategy.”
“I know.”
“But my position is no.”
“Yes.”
I wanted a record.
Not revenge.
A record.
Adrian spent years creating one about me.
Now the truth would create one about him.
Then Daniel said something surprising.
“Margaret is willing to testify against him.”
My mother laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
But Margaret wanted one thing.
A private conversation with me.
I refused.
Then she sent one sentence through her attorney.
May you like
Ask Claire whether she wants to know who ordered the lake-house explosion.
I changed my mind.
