Chapter 3
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother's face in the photograph.
She looked so young.
So hopeful.
I remembered her coming home from work with tired feet and a smile she forced for my sake.
I remembered her telling me education was the one thing nobody could take away.
Now I wondered how much of her life had been stolen by people who had never worried about paying a bill.
Marcus stayed beside me in the guest bedroom.
He had refused to let me return to my apartment alone.
But I couldn't bear sleeping in the room we'd planned to share after the wedding.
Not with his mother downstairs.
Not with that letter lying on the nightstand.
At six in the morning, he reached for my hand.
"Nia?"
I turned toward him.
"Yes?"
"We don't have to get married Saturday."
My heart tightened.
I looked away.
He continued.
"I love you. But I know you're hurting."
I swallowed.
"I still want to marry you."
He sat up.
"Then we will."
I shook my head.
"Not like this."
He looked at me carefully.
"What do you mean?"
I stared at the ceiling.
"I don't want to walk down the aisle pretending your mother didn't destroy my dress."
His jaw tightened.
"I know."
"And I can't celebrate while wondering what happened to my parents."
He nodded.
"Then we postpone."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
He pulled me close.
"Don't apologize."
I rested my forehead against his chest.
For the first time since meeting Marcus, I was afraid our love might not be enough.
Not because I doubted him.
Because our families were connected by something terrible.
And the truth could change everything.
At nine, Grace met us outside the mansion.
She wore a simple gray coat and held a leather handbag.
Her eyes were swollen.
"Are you ready?" Marcus asked.
She nodded.
"I've been ready for seventeen years."
We drove to Savannah.
During the trip, Grace told us what she remembered.
She had worked at the Whitmore hotel when my mother was employed there.
Lillian was kind.
Hardworking.
And unusually brave.
When employees complained that retirement contributions were missing, she began collecting documents.
She had no legal training.
But she understood basic accounting.
And she knew numbers weren't adding up.
"Evelyn told her to stop asking questions," Grace said.
I stared out the window.
"What happened when she refused?"
Grace's voice trembled.
"She was accused of theft."
I looked at her.
"Did you believe it?"
"No."
Her answer came immediately.
"Your mother was one of the most honest people I ever knew."
I began crying.
Grace reached across the seat and squeezed my hand.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect her."
I shook my head.
"You were afraid."
She nodded.
"Yes."
Then she whispered, "And I've regretted it ever since."
Marcus drove silently.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I knew what he was thinking.
The man he'd admired his entire life might have been involved in ruining my family.
When we arrived at the bank, my heart was pounding.
Grace explained that Lillian had rented the box under her own name and later listed me as the person entitled to access its contents after her death.
The bank needed identification and additional estate documentation.
Fortunately, the envelope contained information that helped begin the verification process.
We couldn't open the box immediately.
I was disappointed.
But the bank manager arranged for the necessary records to be reviewed.
Marcus suggested contacting an attorney.
I agreed.
We found a local lawyer named Angela Brooks who specialized in financial disputes and estate matters.
She listened carefully.
Then examined the letter.
Her expression became serious.
"Ms. Carter, if these allegations are supported by the original records, this could involve substantial financial misconduct."
I felt sick.
"Can we still do anything after seventeen years?"
Angela nodded carefully.
"Some claims may face time limits. Others may depend on when the wrongdoing was discovered. We need to examine the documents before making conclusions."
Marcus leaned forward.
"What about the company?"
She looked at him.
"Is Whitmore Holdings still operating?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
"Then we need to determine whether any related accounts, obligations, or assets remain."
I watched Marcus.
His face was pale.
For years, he had been preparing to take over more of the family business.
Now he was discovering its foundation might contain secrets.
Angela continued.
"I recommend preserving the letter and photograph, making copies, and avoiding direct confrontation with anyone who may have been involved."
Marcus nodded.
"My mother already knows we found it."
Angela frowned.
"Then we should move carefully."
That afternoon, we returned to my childhood neighborhood.
I hadn't visited in almost two years.
The little yellow house was gone.
A new family lived on the property.
But the old oak tree remained.
I stood beneath it.
And suddenly, I was eleven again.
Waiting for my mother to come home.
Wondering why she looked so tired.
Wondering why she sometimes cried when she thought nobody was watching.
Marcus stood beside me.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"You didn't do this."
He looked down.
"My family did."
I took his hand.
"Your family name doesn't decide who you are."
He swallowed.
"I wish I'd known."
"So do I."
We stood quietly.
Then my phone rang.
Angela.
"Nia, I have news."
My heart jumped.
"What?"
"The bank has confirmed that the box remains active under the estate access instructions."
I exhaled.
"Can we open it?"
"Once the remaining identification is completed, yes."
I smiled through tears.
"Thank you."
But Angela wasn't finished.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The bank's records show that someone attempted to access the box two weeks ago."
I froze.
"Who?"
She hesitated.
"The request was made by a person claiming to represent the Whitmore family."
I stared at Marcus.
He looked confused.
Then Angela said the name.
"Evelyn Whitmore."
My blood turned cold.
May you like
His mother had tried to reach the evidence before we even knew it existed.
And suddenly, I wondered whether destroying my wedding dress had been only one part of a much larger plan.
