Chapter 3 - My Mother's Hidden Legacy
I had spent six years believing my mother left me nothing but memories.
A silver necklace.
A box of photographs.
A collection of handwritten recipes.
Those were the things I kept beneath my bed.
I never imagined she had left me an entire piece of the world.
"Westbridge Academy?" I whispered.
Thomas nodded.
"More precisely, the original seventy acres on which the school operates."
Dad stared at him.
"Elizabeth never told me."
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
"Your wife established the trust shortly before her final hospitalization."
I felt my chest tighten at the mention of Mom's illness.
She had battled cancer for nearly two years.
Even toward the end, she worried more about me than herself.
When I was little, she used to say that education gave people choices no one could take away.
Now I understood why she had invested in a school.
"But why didn't anyone tell me?" I asked.
Thomas sat beside me.
"Your mother wanted you to have an ordinary childhood. The trust was designed to keep everything protected until you turned eighteen."
I frowned.
"My birthday is in three weeks."
"Exactly."
Dad looked at Vanessa.
"And you knew?"
She straightened her shoulders.
"I discovered the trust while organizing family records."
Thomas shook his head.
"That's not how this began."
He opened a folder.
"Six months ago, Mr. Mercer contacted my office claiming to represent the Bennett household."
Dad's jaw tightened.
"I never hired him."
"He also requested copies of Emily's trust documents."
Vanessa laughed nervously.
"There's nothing illegal about asking questions."
Thomas continued.
"Last month, he offered the trustees thirty million dollars for the land."
My mouth fell open.
Thirty million dollars.
I couldn't even imagine that much money.
"But the trust couldn't sell without my approval?" I asked.
"Not until you reached eighteen," Thomas explained.
"And after that?"
"The decision would belong to you."
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Which is exactly why this arrangement is ridiculous. A teenager shouldn't control something worth that much."
Dad turned sharply.
"Elizabeth trusted our daughter."
"Elizabeth was dying!" Vanessa snapped.
The words hit me like a slap.
Dad's expression became frightening.
"Don't ever use my wife's death to excuse what you've done."
Vanessa looked away.
Thomas removed another document.
"The attempted transfer was only part of the problem."
I watched him carefully.
"What else?"
"Someone submitted a report claiming Emily was emotionally unfit to manage her inheritance."
I felt physically sick.
Vanessa had called me unstable for years.
She told teachers I was fragile.
She claimed I had emotional episodes.
Whenever I cried because of her cruelty, she documented it as evidence.
Now all those little lies suddenly made sense.
"You were building a case against me," I whispered.
Vanessa looked at me.
"I was trying to help you."
"No."
My voice shook.
"You were trying to make everyone believe I was crazy."
Brittany stood by the doorway.
She had followed us downstairs but stayed unusually quiet.
For a moment, she looked almost ashamed.
Then Vanessa glanced at her, and she lowered her eyes.
Thomas continued.
"The report was attached to an application asking a court to appoint a temporary conservator when Emily turns eighteen."
Dad slammed his palm onto the desk.
"Absolutely not."
Thomas nodded.
"The application hasn't been granted. In fact, the court requested independent verification."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Then there's nothing to discuss."
"There's plenty to discuss," Dad replied.
He looked toward Mrs. Collins, who had appeared outside the library.
"Would you please bring Emily some water?"
She nodded.
But before she left, she looked at Vanessa.
There was something strange in her expression.
Fear.
And anger.
I had known Mrs. Collins since I was seven.
She had worked for my mother.
After Mom died, she stayed.
Vanessa treated her terribly.
Yet Mrs. Collins had always found small ways to protect me.
Extra dinner when Vanessa said I shouldn't eat dessert.
Clean uniforms when Brittany hid mine.
Quiet hugs when nobody else was watching.
Now I saw tears shining in her eyes.
"Mrs. Collins?" I said.
She stopped.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Did you know about this?"
Her face changed.
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
"She doesn't know anything."
Mrs. Collins slowly turned toward her.
"Actually, ma'am, I know quite a lot."
Silence filled the room.
Vanessa's lips parted.
"Excuse me?"
Mrs. Collins stepped inside.
"I know about the phone calls."
She looked at Dad.
"The papers your wife made Emily sign while telling her they were school permission forms."
My stomach dropped.
I remembered those papers.
Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had demanded I sign several documents before breakfast.
She said they related to the school dance.
I barely glanced at them.
I trusted that they were routine forms.
Mrs. Collins continued.
"And I know about the meeting Mr. Mercer attended here last Thursday."
Dad stared at her.
"He came to this house?"
"Yes, sir."
Vanessa's face hardened.
"You're lying."
Mrs. Collins shook her head.
"I heard enough to know Emily was in danger."
Dad approached her gently.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her voice cracked.
"I tried."
My father froze.
"What?"
"I called your office twice."
She wiped her eyes.
"Mrs. Bennett told your assistant I was confused and shouldn't be allowed to bother you."
Dad turned toward Vanessa.
She shrugged.
"Richard, the woman is getting older."
Mrs. Collins straightened.
"I'm sixty-one, not senile."
For the first time that evening, I almost smiled.
Then she pulled something from her apron pocket.
A small silver key.
My heart jumped.
I recognized it.
It belonged to my mother's old writing desk.
Vanessa had removed that desk from my bedroom after the wedding.
She claimed it was damaged.
I thought she had sold it.
But Mrs. Collins held the key carefully.
"Your mother asked me to keep this safe," she said.
She placed it in my hand.
"She told me to give it to you when the truth finally became necessary."
I stared at the tiny key.
"Where's the desk?"
Mrs. Collins looked toward the hallway.
"In the locked storage room beneath the east wing."
Vanessa's expression transformed.
"No."
Mrs. Collins ignored her.
"Your mother left something inside it."
Dad looked between them.
"What?"
Mrs. Collins swallowed.
"A letter."
My fingers tightened around the key.
"To me?"
"Yes, sweetheart."
Then she looked at Vanessa.
"And I believe Mrs. Bennett has spent years trying to find it."
Vanessa suddenly rushed toward the door.
Dad blocked her path.
"Where are you going?"
She looked at him with wild eyes.
"You cannot let Emily open that desk."
My heart pounded.
"Why not?"
Vanessa's voice became a whisper.
May you like
"Because some secrets were buried for a reason."
And for the first time, I wondered whether my mother's death held secrets too.
