PART 5
She stared at me.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Corinne closed the folder.
“We’ll let the documents answer that.”
Vivian’s voice rose.
“You’re threatening me in my own home?”
“No,” Corinne replied calmly. “I’m informing you of what happens next.”
“What happens next?”
“The estate will be formally reopened.”
Vivian’s face went pale.
Brielle looked between us.
“Why?”
“Because there is evidence that assets belonging to Richard Hartley’s estate were transferred without proper disclosure.”
Brielle turned toward her mother.
“Mom.”
Vivian snapped.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Did you know about this company?”
“I told you. Your father was sick.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Vivian’s eyes filled with anger.
“I did everything for this family!”
I finally spoke.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“You did everything for yourself.”
Vivian shook her head.
“You’ve always been ungrateful.”
I almost smiled.
There it was.
The same word.
The same weapon.
The same accusation she’d used when I was seventeen.
When I got a scholarship instead of attending the college she had chosen for me.
When I refused to give Brielle my savings for her wedding.
When I questioned why Dad’s will had suddenly changed three weeks before his death.
Ungrateful.
It had always been easier to call me ungrateful than to answer my questions.
I looked down at the envelope in my hand.
Then I opened it.
Inside was a single folded sheet of paper.
My eyes moved across the first line.
Mallory,
If you’re reading this, something went wrong.
I stopped breathing.
My father’s handwriting continued.
I don’t know whether I’ll be alive when you read this. But if I’m gone, I need you to understand something.
You were never abandoned.
You were never unwanted.
And you were never forgotten.
My vision blurred.
I wiped my eyes quickly.
The letter continued.
Your mother will tell you that I left everything to her because I trusted her.
That is not true.
I left certain things in her care because I believed she would eventually do the right thing.
I was wrong.
My hand began to tremble.
Vivian stepped closer.
“Give me that.”
I pulled the letter away.
“No.”
“Mallory, that belongs to the family.”
“It has my name on it.”
“Your father was confused.”
Harold stepped forward.
“He wasn’t.”
Vivian turned toward him.
“You stayed away for five years. Why come back now?”
Harold looked at her.
“Because Richard asked me to.”
The room went silent again.
My father had asked him.
Before he died.
I looked back at the letter.
There was another paragraph.
I have placed the original trust documents with Harold Bennett.
He will only release them when you come back to the house willingly.
Not when you’re summoned.
Not when you’re threatened.
Not when someone needs your signature.
When you come back because you choose to.
My heart sank.
The Christmas invitation.
The wine.
The cookies.
The hope I’d carried with me.
Had my father somehow known I would need to come back one day?
I continued reading.
There is something you must understand about your sister.
I looked up at Brielle.
She was watching me.
The smile she had worn upstairs was gone.
My father had written her name.
Brielle was not the reason I left.
Vivian was.
But Brielle knows more than she has ever admitted.
Brielle’s face went white.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I read the next sentence.
She was present the night your mother and I argued about the trust.
Brielle whispered, “Stop.”
I continued.
She heard me tell your mother that the house could never be sold without your consent.
My eyes lifted.
I looked around the room.
The walls.
The photographs.
The Christmas decorations.
The house where my childhood had been erased.
The house my mother had claimed was hers.
The house my father had apparently placed under conditions I had never known existed.
Then I read the final paragraph.
If anyone ever tells you that you don’t belong here, remember this:
You don’t need their permission to belong to your own family.
But if you choose to walk away, walk away with the truth.
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