Chapter 8

The Letter My Mother Left Behind

The pen hit the marble floor with a sharp click.

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

My eyes were fixed on the young woman standing at the entrance.

She couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she had run for miles.

Her trembling fingers clutched a faded brown envelope.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

She swallowed.

"My name is Lily."

The name meant nothing to me.

"I don't know you."

"I know."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"But your mother knew me."

The room went silent.

My mother.

I hadn't heard anyone mention her in years.

She died when I was eleven.

Or...

At least, that's what I had always been told.

I looked at Damian.

His face had changed.

He wasn't surprised.

He looked... worried.

"You shouldn't have come here," he said quietly.

Lily ignored him.

She looked only at me.

"Your mother asked me to give this to you."

She held up the envelope.

"When the time was right."

My heart started racing.

"How do you know my mother?"

"I lived with her."

"What?"

"For almost two years."

I frowned.

"That's impossible."

"My mother never—"

"Because she never had the chance to tell you."

Damian stepped forward.

"Lily."

His voice was calm but firm.

"Enough."

"No."

She shook her head.

"You promised you'd tell her."

"I promised I'd protect her."

"And look where your protection has brought her."

His jaw tightened.

I looked from one of them to the other.

"What is going on?"

Neither answered.

I felt like I was standing in the middle of a conversation everyone understood except me.

Frustration burned inside me.

"I'm tired of this!" I shouted.

"I'm tired of secrets."

"I'm tired of everyone acting like my life belongs to them."

"I deserve the truth!"

My voice echoed through the mansion.

Lily slowly walked toward me.

When she was close enough, she placed the envelope in my hands.

It felt surprisingly heavy.

The paper was old.

The edges were worn.

Across the front...

My breath caught.

Written in elegant handwriting were three words.

For My Angela.

My knees weakened.

I knew that handwriting.

I had seen it on birthday cards.

On lunch notes tucked into my school bag.

On the last letter my mother ever wrote before she...

Before she died.

Tears blurred my vision.

"It can't be..."

My fingers traced the ink.

The room disappeared around me.

For one brief moment, I was eight years old again, running into my mother's arms after school.

I could almost hear her laugh.

Almost smell the jasmine perfume she always wore.

"Open it," Lily whispered.

I reached for the seal.

"Angela."

Damian's voice stopped me.

I looked at him.

For the first time...

He wasn't calm.

He looked afraid.

"If you read that letter tonight..."

He paused.

"...there will be no turning back."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"It means your life will never be the same."

I looked down at the envelope.

Then back at him.

"Did you read it?"

A long silence followed.

Finally...

"Yes."

My heart pounded.

"And you still kept it from me?"

"I was trying to protect you."

"No."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"You were deciding for me."

The words hit him harder than I expected.

He lowered his eyes.

For the first time...

Damian looked ashamed.

I took a deep breath.

Then slowly broke the seal.

The old paper crackled as I unfolded it.

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold it.

I read the first line.

«My dearest Angela...»

Before I could read another word—

The lights in the mansion went out.

Darkness swallowed the room.

Someone screamed.

A loud crash echoed from the hallway.

Then I felt it.

The letter was ripped from my hands.

"No!" I cried.

I reached blindly into the darkness.

But whoever had taken it was already running.

A second later, the emergency lights flickered on.

The envelope was gone.

So was Lily.

Only one thing remained on the floor where she had been standing.

A silver bracelet.

Engraved with two words.

Forgive me.