I threw my diploma onto the living room floor so hard that the folder burst open, scattering my graduation papers across the polished hardwood.

I read the letter three times.

David had written about his relationship with Grandpa Arthur, the argument that had separated them, and the business he had hoped to build independently.

He had also written about a woman named Evelyn.

I didn't recognize the name.

According to David, Evelyn had worked in the Bennett family's accounting department. She had discovered irregularities in several company accounts and brought them to his attention.

David believed money was being diverted from a charitable foundation established by his late mother.

When he confronted Arthur, the argument became explosive.

Grandpa insisted the transactions were legitimate.

David disagreed.

He threatened to report the matter to the company's independent auditors.

Then came the sentence that made my hands go cold.

My father believed his own family would rather protect its reputation than admit a mistake.

He never accused anyone of causing his death. The letter contained no evidence of that, and I refused to invent an explanation for an accident simply because I was angry.

But it made one thing clear.

David had died before resolving the dispute.

And someone had made certain I never learned about it.

I folded the letter carefully.

"Did my grandfather know about this?"

Daniel nodded.

"He was involved in the family business at the time. The letter itself was never submitted as evidence in any legal proceeding."

"Was the accounting issue ever investigated?"

"An internal review took place years ago. I can provide you with the public records and the documents your father authorized us to release."

I stared at him.

"Please do."

By noon, I had copies of the relevant records and a list of people who had once worked with David.

One name appeared repeatedly.

Evelyn Price.

Daniel gave me her last known professional contact information.

"She retired several years ago," he explained. "I don't know whether she'll be willing to discuss the past."

"I still need to ask."

Before leaving, I looked at the sealed envelope my grandfather had hidden from me.

"Did Arthur tell you not to deliver this letter?"

Daniel shook his head.

"He requested a delay. The trust's administrators did not consider that request sufficient to override David's written instructions."

"Then why did you wait?"

"We followed the terms of the estate as they were documented. I understand your frustration, but I don't want you to assume anyone deliberately concealed the letter without reviewing the complete record."

I appreciated his honesty.

For once, someone wasn't asking me to accept a convenient explanation.

When I stepped outside, my phone vibrated.

It was my mother.

I answered because I wanted to hear what she would say.

"Maya, where are you?"

"Safe."

"Please come home. We need to talk."

"Then talk."

She started crying.

"Your father hasn't slept. Noah keeps asking where you are."

I closed my eyes.

"And what have you told Noah?"

"That you're upset."

"Did you tell him why?"

"No."

"Of course not."

"Maya, please don't punish your brother for something he doesn't understand."

"I am not punishing Noah. I'm asking why every time I need something, his needs become a reason to ignore mine."

Silence.

Then my mother whispered, "I know I've made mistakes."

"Did you love David?"

The question stopped her.

"What?"

"Did you love my biological father?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Finally, she said, "Yes."

My throat tightened.

"Then why did you marry Marcus?"

"Because David died, and I was terrified. I was pregnant, grieving, and completely lost. Marcus was there for me."

"And you never thought I deserved to know?"

"I thought telling you would hurt you."

"It hurt me anyway."

I ended the call.

That afternoon, I visited Evelyn Price.

She lived in a modest brick house on a quiet street. When she opened the door, she looked at me for several seconds before her eyes widened.

"You must be David's daughter."

I nodded.

Her expression softened.

"I wondered when you'd come."

She invited me inside and made tea I barely touched.

I showed her the letter.

She read it slowly, her lips pressing together.

"Your father was a good man," she said. "Stubborn, but honest."

"Did he discover something serious?"

Evelyn looked toward the window.

"He found discrepancies in the foundation's accounts. Some transactions had been approved without proper supporting records. David wanted an independent investigation."

"Was Grandpa involved?"

"I can't prove that he personally took anything. Your grandfather controlled much of the business, but the records were complicated."

I appreciated that she didn't pretend to know more than she did.

"Why didn't the investigation continue?"

"After David died, the board decided the matter had been resolved internally. Several files were transferred, and the people involved moved on."

"Did you keep copies?"

She studied me.

"I kept my own notes. I wasn't comfortable with how the review ended."

My heart started racing.

"Can I see them?"

Evelyn hesitated.

"I'll need time to find everything. Some of those records are old."