Chapter 11 - The Unopened Letter
Six months into Lauren’s prison sentence, a thick brown envelope arrived at my doorstep with no return address. The postmark was local, but the handwriting was unmistakable.
It was my mother’s script.
Ever since Dad filed for divorce and cut off all financial ties, Mom had vanished into a cheap studio apartment on the edge of town, ignoring my calls. But inside this envelope wasn't a plea for forgiveness. It was a lockbox key and a photo of a safety deposit box receipt dated six years ago—a full year before the hit-and-run.
Attached was a short note: “If you want to know why Daniel really married you, look inside Box 412 at First State Bank. Ask him why my signature is on his trust fund.”
My breath hitched.
When I drove to First State Bank and presented the key alongside my power of attorney papers for Mom's seized assets, the vault manager handed over a dusty metal tin. Inside lay a single document: an agreement between my mother and Daniel, signed six years ago.
Mom had paid off Daniel’s entire graduate school tuition—over eighty thousand dollars—under one condition: he had to stay married to me for a minimum of seven years, or pay back double with interest.
My world shattered all over again.
I picked up my phone, my hands shaking violently as I dialed Daniel's number.
May you like
“Claire?” he answered instantly, his voice hopeful. “Is everything okay?”
“Meet me at the pier in twenty minutes,” I said, my voice dead of all warmth. “And bring your financial records from six years ago.”
