Chapter 4: The Woman My Mother Trusted
The glass shattered against the garage floor.
Caroline stared at the letter in my father's hand as though it were something dangerous.
"Give me that," she demanded.
My father folded the paper.
"No.""
"Richard, I have every right to know what that woman wrote about me!""
He looked at her coldly.
"Elizabeth wrote this before she died. You have no right to anything in this letter.""
Caroline stepped closer.
"You're making a terrible mistake.""
James, my father's lawyer, moved between them.
"Mrs. Hayes, I suggest you take a moment to calm down.""
Caroline laughed bitterly.
"Don't tell me to calm down in my own house.""
My father didn't respond.
He was looking at the letter again.
I stood beside him, holding the little velvet jewelry box I had found in the container.
I didn't understand why Caroline was so upset.
I only knew that the name Margaret Wilson had made her frightened.
"Daddy?"" I whispered.
He looked down.
"Yes, sweetheart?""
"Who is Margaret?""
He studied the handwriting.
"Someone your mother trusted.""
"Was she Mommy's friend?""
"I think so.""
Caroline suddenly interrupted.
"Margaret Wilson is nobody. Elizabeth knew dozens of people. This is probably some old note she wrote without thinking.""
James raised an eyebrow.
"Then you won't mind if we contact her.""
Caroline's lips pressed together.
"I didn't say that.""
My father placed the letter inside his briefcase.
"We're contacting her.""
Caroline turned away.
"This is unbelievable.""
She walked out of the garage, her heels striking the concrete floor.
James watched her leave.
Then he turned to my father.
"Richard, I think we should discuss this privately.""
My father nodded.
He took my hand.
"Emma, why don't you go upstairs and get ready? We're going to visit a friend.""
I looked at the velvet box.
"Can I bring this?""
"Of course.""
I followed him upstairs.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid to leave my bedroom.
But when I reached the hallway, Caroline was standing near the staircase.
She looked at the little box in my hands.
"Where did you get that?""
"From Mommy's things.""
"Give it to me.""
I immediately held it closer.
"Daddy said I could keep it.""
Caroline's expression hardened.
"That box belongs to the household.""
My father appeared behind me.
"No, it doesn't.""
She turned toward him.
"Richard, it's just an old jewelry box.""
"Then you won't mind leaving it with Emma.""
Caroline looked at me.
Her eyes were cold.
"You're becoming very demanding.""
My father stepped between us.
"Enough.""
He guided me toward my room.
"Pack a small bag, sweetheart. Just a few things you want to bring.""
I didn't have many things.
I put my mother's photograph, the pink notebook, two stuffed animals, and a clean shirt into a little backpack.
My father watched me pack.
Then he noticed the three garbage bags.
He walked over and picked one up.
"These are going.""
I shook my head.
"But Caroline said they're mine.""
He looked at me.
"Emma, you don't have to keep things that hurt you.""
I thought about that.
Then I quietly nodded.
When we came downstairs, Caroline was waiting in the living room.
"Where are you taking her?""
"To stay somewhere comfortable tonight.""
"This is her home.""
My father looked around the room.
"Is it?""
Caroline's face reddened.
"Don't do this, Richard.""
He picked up his car keys.
"I'll be back tomorrow.""
She followed us to the front door.
"You cannot just walk away from your marriage because of a few misunderstandings.""
My father stopped.
"A few misunderstandings?""
He looked at her.
"My daughter has been sleeping on an old mattress while your children have new furniture. She has been wearing clothes you threw into garbage bags. You used money allocated for her needs to pay for Olivia's private activities.""
Caroline crossed her arms.
"You're exaggerating.""
"I'm documenting.""
He opened the door.
Then he added quietly:
"And I'm not leaving my daughter alone with you tonight.""
We drove to a small hotel near the city center.
My father ordered room service and let me choose a movie.
I sat on the large bed, still holding the little velvet box.
"Daddy?""
"Yes?""
"Are you going to marry Caroline forever?""
He stopped arranging the pillows.
I immediately regretted asking.
"Why do you ask?""
"Because if you stop being married to her, will Olivia and Lucas still be my brother and sister?""
He sat beside me.
"That depends on what everyone chooses to do. But nobody can take away the fact that you deserve to be loved.""
I looked at him.
"Do you still love me?""
His expression broke.
He pulled me against his chest.
"More than anything in this world.""
I believed him.
At least, I wanted to.
The next morning, James arrived at the hotel with a woman.
She was in her early sixties, with silver hair, a navy coat, and a leather handbag.
The moment she saw me, she stopped walking.
"Oh, Emma.""
She knelt down.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"You have Elizabeth's eyes.""
I looked at my father.
He nodded.
"Sweetheart, this is Margaret Wilson.""
Margaret smiled.
"Your mother and I were best friends.""
I had never heard anyone say that.
Not even my father.
"Did you know Mommy?""
Margaret laughed softly.
"Know her? We were inseparable. She was the person who taught me how to be brave.""
I hugged my backpack.
"Did she talk about me?""
Margaret's face softened.
"Every single day.""
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a younger Margaret in front of a hospital.
They were both holding newborn babies.
One was me.
The other was a little boy.
"That was taken shortly after you were born," Margaret explained.
"Your mother was so proud of you.""
My father looked at the photograph.
"Margaret, why did Elizabeth leave your name in that letter?""
Margaret glanced at him.
"Because she knew what might happen if she wasn't around.""
My father frowned.
"What do you mean?""
Margaret sat down.
"Elizabeth was concerned about Caroline long before your wedding.""
He looked stunned.
"She never met Caroline.""
"Not personally. But she knew something about the financial arrangements surrounding your family.""
"What arrangements?""
Margaret opened her handbag again.
She removed a sealed envelope.
"Before Elizabeth died, she asked me to keep this safe. She told me not to give it to you unless Emma's welfare was ever threatened.""
My father took it.
On the front, in my mother's handwriting, were the words:
*Richard — Only if Emma is no longer safe.*
He opened it carefully.
Inside was a letter and several photocopied documents.
He read the first paragraph.
Then his face changed.
"Margaret...""
She nodded.
"Keep reading.""
He turned the page.
There was a list of dates, payments, and account numbers.
At the bottom was a name.
Caroline Hayes.
My father looked up.
"How did Elizabeth know about this?""
Margaret folded her hands.
"Because she discovered something while she was preparing her estate.""
"What?""
Margaret took a breath.
"Caroline had been involved with a financial adviser who once worked for your company. That adviser had access to information about your personal assets.""
My father stared at her.
"That's impossible.""
"Elizabeth didn't think so.""
Margaret continued.
"She believed Caroline knew about the money you would eventually inherit from your business and that her interest in you might not have been entirely romantic.""
My father stood.
"Are you saying she married me for money?""
"I'm saying Elizabeth was worried enough to investigate.""
He looked back at the documents.
"Why didn't she tell me?""
"She was afraid you wouldn't believe her. She didn't want to damage your happiness unless she had proof.""
My father lowered himself into the chair.
I watched him.
He looked as though the room had suddenly become much colder.
Margaret turned toward me.
"Emma, your mother wanted you to know something.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
She reached into her handbag and took out a little silver locket.
"She bought this for you shortly before she died.""
I opened my hand.
Inside was a tiny photograph of my mother.
On the other side was an engraving.
*You are never anyone's leftover.*
I began crying.
Margaret pulled me into a hug.
"Oh, sweetheart.""
I held the locket tightly.
For the first time since my mother died, I felt as though a part of her had found its way back to me.
My father continued reading the letter.
Then he reached the final page.
His hands became still.
"Margaret, what is this?""
She looked at the document.
"That's the part I was hoping you would find.""
It was a copy of an old financial agreement.
At the top was the name of a company.
A company Caroline had apparently been connected to before marrying my father.
And beneath it was a handwritten note from my mother.
*Richard, if Caroline ever becomes the person responsible for Emma's money, check the account ending in 4812.*
My father read the note twice.
Then he took out his phone.
"James, I need you to trace an account.""
He gave him the number.
A pause followed.
May you like
Then my father said something that made Margaret close her eyes.
"Yes. I think Caroline has been planning this for much longer than we realized.""
