“Not here.”
He pulled me away from the crowd toward a quiet corner near the back of the venue.
Music and laughter continued behind us, but suddenly everything felt distant.
He leaned closer.
“Grace… you need to know the truth about Dad.”
My stomach dropped.
“What are you talking about?”
His hands were shaking.
Slowly, he reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope.
Old.
Slightly wrinkled.
The moment I saw the handwriting on the front, my breath caught.
It was Mom’s.
“The lawyer gave this to me this morning,” my brother whispered.
I stared at the envelope.
“Why would Mom write us a letter?”
He glanced toward the garden where Dad and Victoria were posing for wedding photos.
Then he looked back at me.
“Because before Mom died,” he said quietly, “she discovered something about Dad.”
My heart started pounding.
“What kind of something?”
He swallowed.
“She realized Dad was hiding the truth.”
My fingers tightened around the envelope.
The music kept playing.
Guests kept celebrating.
But suddenly the wedding didn’t matter anymore.
All I could think about was the letter my mother had written before she died.
And the reason she had waited until now for us to read it.
Because whatever Dad had been hiding…
Mom had already found out.
