Chapter 4: The Letter My Mother Never Wanted Him to Read
For several seconds, my father didn't move.
He stood in the middle of our living room, one hand resting against the pocket where he'd placed my mother's envelope, staring at Brittany as though the woman in front of him had suddenly become a stranger.
Then he asked, "You read Eleanor's letter before you married me?""
Brittany lifted her chin.
"Yes.""
"How?""
She glanced at me.
"Not in front of the child.""
Dad's expression hardened.
"Her name is Jasmine. And she's the reason we're having this conversation.""
"She's ten years old, Nathan!""
"Exactly. She's ten years old, and she's been living in a house where her stepmother treats her like an unwanted guest. So we're done pretending she's too young to understand what's happening.""
I stood beside the staircase, clutching my stuffed rabbit against my chest.
Brittany looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite understand. It wasn't the usual irritation she showed when I entered a room. It was something sharper.
Fear.
Dad pointed toward the dining table.
"Sit down.""
Brittany laughed incredulously.
"You're giving me orders now?""
"I'm asking you to explain why you knew about my daughter's inheritance before you married me.""
"I told you. I was curious.""
"That's not an explanation.""
She crossed her arms.
"Someone at a charity event mentioned Eleanor's family. I knew she came from money, so I asked questions.""
"What charity event?""
Brittany hesitated.
Dad noticed.
"Which one?""
"The Whitmore Foundation gala. Three years ago.""
I remembered that name because Dad sometimes attended events with business partners. There were photographs of him in the local newspaper, standing beside men in tuxedos and women wearing glittering gowns.
Mom had never attended those events after I was born. Dad said she preferred quiet dinners and evenings at home.
Brittany continued, "A woman told me Eleanor had established a substantial trust for you and Jasmine. I didn't know the details.""
"But you knew enough to look for her estate records?""
Brittany's silence answered him.
Dad pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Start talking.""
She remained standing.
"You don't understand what it was like when we first got together," she said.
"You were still grieving. You barely slept. You kept Eleanor's things everywhere.
Her photographs, her clothes, her books. I felt as though I was competing with a ghost.""
"You knew I was a widower when you married me.""
"I thought you would eventually move on.""
"I did move on. I married you.""
"But you never stopped putting her first.""
Dad looked at her steadily.
"She was Jasmine's mother. She will always be part of this family.""
Brittany shook her head.
"That's exactly what I mean. I could never be enough.""
"Then why did you pretend to be a loving stepmother?""
Her eyes flashed.
"Because I wanted this marriage to work!""
"By taking money from a child's trust?""
"I didn't take it for myself!""
Dad stood so abruptly that his chair scraped the floor.
"Three hundred thousand dollars is missing, Brittany!""
"I invested it in our future!""
"Whose future?""
She opened her mouth.
Then she closed it.
I watched my father reach for the papers again. His hands were shaking slightly, and I realized he was angrier than I'd ever seen him.
But he was trying not to frighten me.
That made my throat ache.
Dad turned to me.
"Jasmine, sweetheart, why don't you sit in the kitchen for a few minutes? I'll come get you soon.""
I hesitated.
"Are you going to let her stay?""
His face softened.
"I haven't decided everything yet. But I promise you this: nobody is going to throw you out of your home again.""
I nodded, although the answer didn't entirely calm me.
As I walked toward the kitchen, I heard Brittany whisper, "If you send me away, you'll lose more than your marriage.""
Dad replied, "Is that a threat?""
"No. It's a warning.""
I stopped beside the doorway.
Then she said something that made my stomach twist.
"Eleanor knew exactly what kind of man you were when you felt guilty. That's why she wrote the letter.""
Dad went silent.
I slipped into the kitchen and sat at the island, listening to the clock tick above the refrigerator.
A few minutes later, Dad joined me.
He made two cups of hot chocolate, even though neither of us drank much. He placed mine in front of me and sat beside me.
"Do you remember the last time you saw your mother?"" he asked.
I nodded.
"She was in the hospital. She gave me her blue scarf.""
Dad smiled sadly.
"She gave you that scarf because she knew you loved wearing it.""
"I still have it.""
"I know.""
He reached into his jacket and took out the photograph he'd found inside the envelope.
Mom was holding me in the backyard.
On the back, the words were written in her familiar blue handwriting.
For Jasmine, when she is old enough to understand how fiercely she was loved.
Dad ran his thumb over the photograph.
"Your mother worried about what would happen if she wasn't here to protect you.""
I stared into my cup.
"Did she know Brittany would be mean to me?""
"No, sweetheart. She didn't know Brittany.""
"Then why did she write a letter about you getting married again?""
Dad looked toward the living room.
"Because she knew grief could make people desperate to feel normal again. She worried I might rush into a decision without thinking about what was best for you.""
I swallowed.
"Did you?""
He didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Finally, he said, "I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted you to have a mother figure. I wanted our house to feel like a family again.""
"But we were already a family.""
His eyes filled.
"Yes. We were.""
I reached for his hand.
"I liked it when it was just us.""
He squeezed my fingers.
"Me too.""
For a while, we sat quietly.
Then Dad's phone rang.
He answered, listened for several seconds, and asked the caller to repeat something.
His expression changed.
"You're certain?""
Another pause.
"Send me the documents immediately.""
He ended the call.
"Who was that?"" I asked.
"My attorney's office.""
"What did they say?""
Dad looked down at the papers.
"They've located the original trust file.""
"Is that good?""
"It should be.""
He stood and walked toward the living room, where Brittany was still waiting.
I followed him, staying close to his side.
Dad placed his phone on the coffee table.
"My attorney says the original trust agreement contains a provision that I wasn't aware of.""
Brittany's face went white.
"You said you hadn't read it.""
"I hadn't. But apparently Eleanor's attorney sent several notices to our previous address before we moved. I never received them.""
Brittany looked away.
Dad noticed.
"What aren't you telling me?""
"Nothing.""
"Then you won't mind if I ask my attorney to investigate every document you signed while we were married.""
She said nothing.
Dad continued.
"The trust agreement requires an independent review if there's evidence that the funds were used for purposes other than Jasmine's welfare.""
Brittany laughed nervously.
"You're making it sound like a criminal investigation.""
"At the moment, I'm trying to understand what happened.""
"And if you don't like the answers?""
"Then the consequences will follow.""
Brittany sat down slowly.
For the first time, she seemed to realize that she couldn't simply shout her way out of the situation.
Dad picked up his phone again.
"There's one more thing. My attorney said Eleanor's letter may contain instructions concerning my marriage and Jasmine's inheritance.""
Brittany's head snapped up.
"Don't read that letter.""
Dad stared at her.
"Why?""
"Because it will destroy everything.""
"What will it destroy?""
She began shaking her head.
"You don't understand what she knew.""
"Then tell me.""
Brittany looked at me.
Her eyes moved to the photograph of my mother.
And then she whispered, "Eleanor didn't just leave money for Jasmine. She left evidence.""
Dad's voice dropped.
"Evidence of what?""
Brittany's lips parted.
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.
Dad glanced at the clock.
It was nearly seven in the evening.
He went to the front door and opened it.
A tall woman in a charcoal suit stood on the porch, holding a leather briefcase.
"Dad?"" I whispered.
He looked back at me.
"It's all right.""
The woman introduced herself as Margaret Ellis, my mother's former attorney. She had silver hair, narrow glasses, and the kind of serious expression that made even adults stand straighter.
She stepped inside and placed her briefcase on the table.
"Nathan," she said, "I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.""
Dad shook her hand.
"Thank you for coming so quickly.""
Margaret glanced at Brittany.
Then she looked at me.
"Jasmine, I've known your mother for many years. She loved you more than anything in the world.""
I nodded, unsure what to say.
Margaret opened her briefcase and removed a thick folder secured with a red ribbon.
"This is the original trust file. I've also brought the letter Eleanor instructed me to deliver if her husband ever remarried and concerns arose regarding Jasmine's inheritance.""
Brittany rose from her chair.
"You have no right to bring that here!""
Margaret didn't even look at her.
"I have every legal right to protect my client's beneficiary.""
She untied the ribbon.
Dad leaned forward.
"What does the letter say?""
Margaret removed a sealed envelope.
On the front, in my mother's handwriting, were the words:
To Nathan, if you have allowed another woman to come between you and our daughter.
Dad covered his mouth.
I stared at the envelope.
My mother's handwriting.
My mother's words.
A message she'd written when I was too little to understand what death meant.
Margaret broke the seal.
She read the first paragraph silently.
Then she stopped.
Her face changed.
Dad noticed immediately.
"What is it?""
Margaret looked up at him.
"Eleanor anticipated that Jasmine might someday be mistreated by a future spouse. She established a specific condition to prevent that from happening.""
Brittany grabbed the back of her chair.
"What condition?""
Margaret looked directly at her.
"Any verified misuse of Jasmine's trust by Nathan's spouse triggers an immediate independent audit and a review of the spouse's financial access to the household.""
Dad frowned.
"That's understandable. But why are you looking at Brittany like that?""
Margaret turned another page.
"Because Eleanor didn't stop there.""
She placed a second document on the table.
It contained a list of account numbers, dates, and signatures.
At the bottom was a name that made Dad's face lose all color.
Brittany Carter.
Margaret looked at my father.
"Nathan, there's something else you need to know. The transfers weren't simply withdrawals from Jasmine's trust.""
She paused.
"They were authorized using your signature.""
Dad stared at the page.
Then he whispered, "That's impossible.""
Margaret shook her head.
"Your signature appears on every transfer authorization.""
Brittany took one step toward the door.
Dad looked up.
"Don't move.""
For the first time, his voice sounded less like a husband confronting his wife and more like a man who had just discovered that the person he trusted most had been living inside a lie.
And Margaret wasn't finished.
She opened the folder to the final page.
"Eleanor instructed me to preserve one last piece of evidence," she said.
"Something she discovered before she died.""
Dad looked at her.
"What evidence?""
Margaret slid a small photograph across the table.
It showed Brittany standing beside a man outside a bank.
May you like
The date printed on the back was six months before Brittany and Nathan had met.
And the man beside her was holding a folder labeled with my mother's name.
