Chapter 2

My father chased me to the courtyard gate and grabbed my arm.

"Now that you've vented your anger, it's time to handle this gracefully. Come back inside for the banquet. If the guests ask about your outburst earlier, just say you had a bit too much to drink."

"I haven't been drinking."

"Who cares? You just need a plausible explanation."

I stared at his hand that was holding onto me.

He used to hold my hand just like this when we crossed the street when I was little. Back then, I was so afraid he would let go.

"Dad, when you realized I had found out last night, did you expect me to just accept it quietly?"

My father relaxed his grip slightly.

"You've always been an understanding one."

"And that's why you wouldn't even bother telling me in advance?"

"If I had told you in advance, you would have made a scene. Could we still hold the wedding then?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he paused for a moment.

Someone in the courtyard called out to him, saying that Mathilda's mother was about to take Mathilda away.

He turned around and yelled in acknowledgement, and when he turned back to face me, his tone grew even more urgent.

"Your brother's not strong enough to handle a situation like this. As the older brother, why can't you be more understanding?"

"And I'm strong enough?"

"You're different from him. You've always been steadier than him. No matter what happens, you've always been able to resolve your problem on your own."

I slowly removed his hand from my arm.

"That's only because whenever I came to you for help, you never helped me."

He frowned, as if trying to recall if there had ever been such a time.

Yet I remembered it all too clearly.

When I was 16, my younger brother broke the camera I had saved up to buy. I went to confront him holding the shattered lens.

My father told me not to cry, saying I was scaring my younger brother.

In the end, it was my mother who sealed the cracks with tape and saved up money for three months to replace the lens for me.

Gradually, I stopped turning to my father, leading him to believe that I cared about nothing at all.

"You're holding onto something so trivial for so long?" My father waved his hand impatiently.

"Do you remember the first time I brought Mathilda home?"

"Of course. Your mom was still healthy back then, so she cooked for Mathilda."

"Back then, you asked me to tell Mathilda that Ivan was shy and asked her to talk to him more. I said okay."

My father thought for a moment, seemingly unable to figure out what was wrong with that.

"And she was willing to talk to him. That wasn't a bad thing."

"It wasn't a bad thing. The bad thing was that I treated every single request you made of me as my responsibility."

"Alright, that's enough. You can still live in this house. Let them get married first. We can discuss everything else afterward."

"Is that what you promised Ivan?"

"It's family property. What difference does it make who gets it?"

"When you handed me the keys, you said it was my new home."

He fished another set of keys out of his pocket and weighed them in his palm.

Those were the spare keys to the manor. He had not taken back the set of keys in my hand after he gave them to me three days ago.

"Entrusting it to you for safekeeping doesn't mean the family can't make decisions about it anymore. Whatever your mother left behind belongs to the whole Shore family."

"She explicitly said back then that she wanted to leave this manor to me."

"Please don't bring up the things she said when she was ill."

I took a step back.

"I'm going to find out the truth."

My father reached out to block my path.

"Because of a woman, you won't even believe your own father anymore?"

"You're the one who made it impossible for me to believe you anymore."

He stared at me for a long time before finally stepping aside.

I walked to the convenience store across the street, bought a bottle of water, and sat down on the curb.

I had to twist the cap twice before I managed to open it.

My phone was flooded with texts from relatives. Some urged me to delete the audio recordings, while others urged me to be more understanding. After all, Mathilda had been my girlfriend for eight years.

Not a single person asked where I would sleep tonight.

Auntie Dolly from the photo studio came over and placed a chair by her doorway.

"Don't sit on the ground. Come inside."

She had known my mother for decades, and a jar of pickled plums my mother gave her still sat inside the shop.

I placed the photo album on the counter. Ever since I found the photograph last night, I had kept the album with me.

Auntie Dolly flipped to that page and recognized the printing serial number on the back of the photo.

"Tiffany had this printed the year before last. She said she was going to put it in the family album. I thought it was just an ordinary group photo."

She stared at the intertwined hands in the photo and remained silent for a long time.

I stopped her from looking.

"Auntie Dolly, did my mom ever mention the manor to you?"

"She did. Didn't you receive the letter she left you?"

I shook my head.

She suddenly sat up straight, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved an old business card holder from beneath several ledger books.

"She left it with a lawyer, George Zeller, for safekeeping. I went with her. Later, your dad claimed that all the procedures had been fully explained to you."

"When did he say that?"

"The autumn after your mom passed away. He came to pick up some photos, and I specifically asked him."

She handed me the business card and didn't immediately withdraw her hand.

"Jack, your mom wasn't only looking out for Ivan. She left words specifically for you too."

I lowered my head, only to realize I had been clutching the water bottle so tightly its plastic body had deformed.

Auntie Dolly didn't try to comfort me or tell me to look on the bright side. She simply helped me dial the number on the business card.

"George, it's me. Jack Shore is here with me."

The person on the other end of the line asked a question.

Auntie Dolly glanced at me, then her voice dropped lower.

"No, he didn't receive the letter."