Chapter 3 - The Letter Under the FloorboardI couldn't breathe.
My name was written on the envelope.
David Bennett.
The handwriting looked like mine.
But I knew I had never written it.
I looked at Lucille.
She was staring at the envelope as if it were a loaded gun.
“Lucy?”
She shook her head.
“I've never seen that.”
My mother placed the envelope on the table.
“I found it three years ago.”
“Where?”
“In the old house.”
“The house Dad sold?”
She nodded.
“Under a loose floorboard in your bedroom.”
I frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I know.”
I picked up the envelope.
It was old.
Yellowed around the edges.
There was a crease through the middle.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
I read the first sentence.
Then stopped.
My heart began pounding.
The letter said:
David, if you marry Lucille, you will regret it.
I looked up.
“What the hell is this?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“I didn't write it.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
I continued reading.
It accused Lucille of marrying me for money.
It claimed she had known about my father's inheritance.
It claimed she was planning to leave me after the baby was born.
It even mentioned a bank account I had never told anyone about.
I felt sick.
“This is insane.”
My mother nodded.
“I thought so too.”
“Then why keep it?”
“Because I didn't know whether it was true.”
I stared at her.
“You believed this?”
“I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Losing you.”
My mother sat down.
“You were different after you met Lucille.”
I looked at my wife.
She was crying silently.
“You were happier.”
My mother swallowed.
“You stopped coming over every weekend.”
“You stopped asking my permission.”
“You started making decisions without me.”
She laughed bitterly.
“And I thought I was losing my son.”
I looked at her.
“So you tried to destroy my marriage.”
“I tried to protect you.”
“No.”
My voice was calm now.
“You tried to control me.”
My mother didn't deny it.
I turned to Lucille.
“Did you ever see this letter?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Did anyone ever accuse you of wanting my money?”
She hesitated.
Then whispered,
“Yes.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“Your sisters.”
Sarah looked down.
“When?”
“Before our wedding.”
Lucille wiped her tears.
“They asked me why I would marry you.”
I looked at Sarah.
“You never told me that.”
“You would have defended her.”
“Yes.”
Sarah nodded.
“Exactly.”
My stomach tightened.
Jessica began crying.
“I didn't want to hurt her.”
“You did.”
“I know.”
Chloe covered her face.
My mother remained silent.
I looked at the letter again.
There was one detail that bothered me.
The bank account.
Only three people knew about it.
My father.
My mother.
And me.
My father was dead.
I looked at Mom.
“Where did you get the information about the account?”
She shook her head.
“I didn't.”
“Then who wrote this?”
“I don't know.”
I read the letter again.
A strange sentence stood out.
Ask her about the hospital.
I looked at Lucille.
“What happened at the hospital?”
She froze.
“I…”
My mother stood abruptly.
“That's enough.”
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“Mom, what happened at the hospital?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Lucille began crying.
I walked toward her.
“Lucy?”
She looked at me.
“I didn't tell you because I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
She swallowed.
“Three years ago, before our wedding, I went to the hospital.”
“Why?”
She looked down.
“I thought I was pregnant.”
My heart stopped.
“You were?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“I had a miscarriage.”
I stared at her.
The room disappeared.
“You were pregnant?”
She nodded.
“I didn't know how to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because we had been fighting.”
I remembered.
Three years earlier.
We had been engaged.
I had been working constantly.
My family had been pushing us to postpone the wedding.
I had told Lucille I needed space.
She had thought I was leaving.
She had gone through the loss alone.
I whispered,
“Why didn't you call me?”
She cried.
“I did.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“I called you.”
“How many times?”
“Seven.”
I looked at my mother.
Something cold moved through me.
“Mom?”
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
“Did you answer her calls?”
She whispered,
“No.”
“Why?”
“She was emotional.”
I felt my blood run cold.
“Mom.”
She finally looked at me.
“She called me afterward.”
“What did you tell her?”
My mother began crying.
“I told her you didn't want children yet.”
Lucille closed her eyes.
I stared at my mother.
“You told her that?”
“She was devastated.”
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought she'd leave.”
“Who?”
“You.”
My mother broke down.
“I thought if you knew, you'd marry her immediately.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
For years, I had believed my marriage had started with two people choosing each other.
But my mother had been standing in the middle of it from the beginning.
Manipulating.
Filtering.
Deleting.
Controlling.
I looked at Lucille.
She reached for my hand.
“I should have told you.”
I squeezed it.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I kept too many things from you.”
I kissed her forehead.
“You were scared.”
Then I looked at my mother.
“You were supposed to protect us.”
“I know.”
“But instead, you created this.”
My mother nodded.
“I know.”
Then Sarah suddenly spoke.
“There's something else.”
I turned.
She looked terrified.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“The letter wasn't the only thing Mom found.”
My mother stood.
“Sarah.”
“No.”
Sarah shook her head.
“David deserves to know.”
My heart began pounding again.
“What else?”
Sarah looked at Lucille.
Then at me.
“Someone has been taking money from the family account.”
I frowned.
“What family account?”
My mother looked away.
Sarah whispered,
“Your father's trust.”
My stomach dropped.
“That account is mine.”
Sarah nodded.
“And someone has been withdrawing from it for years.”
“Who?”
She looked at Mom.
Nobody spoke.
I stepped forward.
“Who?”
May you like
Sarah whispered,
“Mom.”
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