Chapter 8
I didn't see Diane's email immediately.
Dad told me about it after speaking with Mr. Collins.
He chose his words carefully.
He didn't want me imagining things the evidence didn't prove.
But I could tell he was shaken.
"Diane wrote something cruel after your mother died."
I stared at him.
"About Mama?"
He nodded.
My stomach tightened.
"Did she say she was happy?"
Dad paused.
"She wrote that Naomi could no longer expose the financial problems."
I felt sick.
For three years, I'd imagined Mama's death as a terrible accident that left everyone heartbroken.
Now I knew some people had viewed it as an opportunity.
That hurt in a way I couldn't explain.
I looked at Dad.
"Did Diane kill her?"
He immediately shook his head.
"There's no evidence of that."
I stared at him.
"Then why did she say that?"
"Because she was thinking about protecting herself instead of respecting what happened to your mother."
Tears filled my eyes.
"That's horrible."
Dad nodded.
"Yes."
I leaned against him.
He held me tightly.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered, "I don't want her at our house."
Dad kissed my forehead.
"She won't be coming here."
I exhaled.
That mattered.
I couldn't control the investigation.
I couldn't control what Diane admitted.
But I could know that our home would remain safe.
Over the following months, the legal process moved forward.
Diane and Raymond were charged in connection with financial misconduct involving the foundation and the insurance claim.
The charges were based on the documented transactions, altered records, and statements submitted to investigators.
Nobody accused them of causing Mama's accident without evidence.
The crash remained classified according to the official investigation.
That was important to Dad.
He told me that justice required truth, even when the truth didn't answer every painful question.
I understood.
Mostly.
But there were nights when I still wondered what Mama would've done if she'd lived.
Would she have exposed the foundation?
Would Diane have lost her position?
Would Dad have ever met Lauren?
Would our family look completely different?
Dr. Ellis helped me understand that imagining other possibilities was part of grief.
She told me I didn't have to solve every question to keep living.
That was difficult.
But I tried.
One afternoon, Lauren came over.
She looked exhausted.
Her mother had been in the news.
Some people blamed Lauren for cooperating with investigators.
Others accused her of abandoning her family.
She sat beside me on the sofa.
"How are you doing, Ava?"
I shrugged.
"Okay."
She nodded.
Then I asked something that surprised us both.
"Do you still love your mom?"
Lauren's eyes filled.
"Yes."
I looked down.
"Even after what she did?"
She swallowed.
"Yes. But loving her doesn't mean pretending she was right."
I thought about that.
"Are you going to forgive her?"
Lauren hesitated.
"I don't know."
She wiped her eyes.
"I hope she takes responsibility. But I can't make her."
I nodded.
Then I asked, "Does that make you sad?"
She gave a small laugh through tears.
"Very."
I leaned against her shoulder.
For a moment, we sat quietly.
Then Lauren whispered, "I'm sorry my mother hurt you."
I nodded.
"I know."
She looked at me.
"I should've stopped her before she touched the card."
I swallowed.
"She moved really fast."
Lauren smiled sadly.
"She did."
Then I looked toward Mama's photograph.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Anything."
"I was scared that if Dad married you, everybody would stop talking about Mama."
Lauren's face softened.
"Oh, Ava."
I continued.
"Not because you're mean. Because sometimes people act like remembering someone makes things uncomfortable."
She took my hand.
"Your mother will always be part of your life."
I looked at her.
"Even if you marry Dad?"
"Especially then."
My eyes filled.
She smiled gently.
"Love doesn't have to replace love."
I hugged her.
For the first time, the idea of Dad marrying Lauren didn't feel like losing another piece of Mama.
It felt possible.
Later that evening, Dad asked whether I would be comfortable attending a small family dinner with Lauren and Grandma Evelyn.
I nodded.
"Sure."
He looked surprised.
"Really?"
I smiled.
"Yeah."
We went to Grandma's house.
She made fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and green beans.
Lauren helped set the table.
I brought Mama's favorite sweet potato pie.
Grandma took one bite and closed her eyes.
"That tastes just like Naomi's."
My throat tightened.
"Lauren helped me make it."
Grandma looked at her.
Then smiled.
"Well, you two make a good team."
Lauren laughed.
I smiled too.
For the first time in months, dinner felt easy.
No secrets.
No shouting.
No pressure.
Just people who cared about one another.
A few weeks later, the criminal case reached a turning point.
Raymond entered a guilty plea to financial charges connected to the improper transfers.
Diane's attorney began discussing a possible resolution.
The foundation worked to recover funds and rebuild its oversight procedures.
Donors received updates.
Programs affected by the missing money began receiving restored funding.
Dad explained that justice wasn't only about punishment.
It was also about repairing harm wherever possible.
I liked that.
Mama would've liked it too.
But then Diane sent Lauren a letter.
It was the first letter in which she admitted specific wrongdoing without blaming someone else.
Lauren read it privately.
Then she asked Dad whether she could share part of it with me.
He said it was my choice.
I agreed.
Lauren sat beside me.
Her hands trembled as she read.
"Dear Lauren,
I allowed jealousy and fear to guide decisions that hurt people who trusted me.
I treated Naomi as an enemy because she discovered things I wanted hidden.
I also treated Ava cruelly because her presence reminded me of the truth.
I cannot undo what I did.
I can only admit that I was wrong."
Lauren stopped reading.
She began crying.
I stared at the letter.
For the first time, Diane had acknowledged that hurting me was wrong.
But I didn't feel relieved.
Not yet.
I looked toward Mama's photograph.
Then whispered, "She should've said that while Mama was alive."
Lauren nodded.
"Yes."
I swallowed.
"And she should've left my chair alone."
Lauren hugged me.
"Yes, Ava."
For the first time, there was nothing more to argue about.
The truth had finally been spoken.
May you like
But forgiving Diane would be another decision entirely.
And that decision belonged to me.
