Chapter 19 - The Letters From a Dead Father
There were thirty-six letters.
Daniel brought them the next morning.
They were bundled with twine inside an old leather folio.
Every envelope carried Rebecca’s childhood address.
Every one had been returned unopened.
Rebecca stared at them for almost five minutes before touching anything.
“Why would my mother do this?”
Arthur answered gently.
“Maybe she wanted to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Complication. Shame. Disappointment.”
Rebecca laughed through tears.
“She spent my whole childhood telling me he forgot us.”
No one had an answer.
She opened the first letter.
Rebecca,
You are six today.
I do not know whether your mother will ever allow this letter to reach you, but I want there to exist somewhere in this world proof that I remembered.
My father’s handwriting.
I knew it instantly.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
She read the letter silently.
Then another.
Age seven.
Age eight.
Age nine.
Every birthday.
Every Christmas.
Some contained photographs.
One showed my father standing beside a snowman.
Another showed him holding a little wooden music box.
“I had that,” Rebecca whispered.
“What?”
“The music box. Mom said it came from a charity Christmas program.”
Arthur looked away.
Rebecca began crying.
Not dramatic tears.
The quiet kind that come from years of misunderstanding breaking apart.
I sat beside her.
She handed me one letter.
Sarah was mentioned.
Rebecca,
You have a little sister now. Her name is Sarah. Someday I hope I can tell her about you. Someday I hope the three of us can sit at one table without anyone being hurt.
I couldn’t continue reading.
My father had imagined us together.
Decades before we met.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Do you hate him?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“Maybe.”
I wiped my eyes.
“But people can fail someone and still love them.”
We both understood the irony.
David had taught us the darker version of that lesson.
My father had failed Rebecca through cowardice, secrecy, and compromise.
Yet he had spent decades writing letters.
Love without courage had still caused damage.
But it was not the same as indifference.
Rebecca spent the day reading.
By evening, something between us had changed.
Not magically.
We weren’t sisters because a DNA test or trust document said so.
But we were no longer strangers.
At six, Lily came home.
She found Rebecca in the sunroom surrounded by letters.
“What happened?”
Rebecca smiled sadly.
“I found out your grandpa wrote me letters.”
Lily climbed beside her.
“Were they nice?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Rebecca laughed.
“Because sometimes nice things arrive late.”
Lily considered this.
“Late is better than never.”
Rebecca looked at me.
Children have a brutal way of simplifying adults.
That night, Agent Reynolds called.
Daniel’s meeting with Charles had been arranged.
Private dining room.
Downtown hotel.
The FBI would record everything.
“But there’s a problem,” she said.
“What?”
“Charles specifically asked whether Rebecca is still willing to challenge the trust.”
Rebecca overheard.
She stood.
“I’ll do it.”
“No,” I said immediately.
“He needs to believe I’m part of the plan.”
“You are not going near him.”
She crossed her arms.
“You don’t get to order me around.”
“You met me four days ago.”
“Exactly. Too early for you to become bossy.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Then she became serious.
“Sarah, my existence is why Charles thinks this works. Let me end it.”
Arthur objected.
Marcus objected.
I objected.
Rebecca ignored all of us.
“I spent forty years believing the Montgomery family erased me,” she said. “Charles thinks he can use that pain.”
She picked up one of our father’s letters.
“He’s wrong.”
The operation was modified.
Daniel would meet Charles.
Rebecca would appear halfway through.
She would pretend she wanted fifty million dollars to settle her claim.
Charles would hopefully expose the takeover plan.
I held Rebecca’s hand before she left.
“Be careful.”
She squeezed mine.
“You too, little sister.”
It was the first time she called me that.
I watched her walk away.
Then my phone buzzed.
Thomas.
CALL ME.
I answered.
His voice sounded wrong.
“Sarah.”
“What happened?”
“It’s Lily.”
May you like
My blood turned cold.
“She collapsed at school.”
