Chapter 10 - The Letters She Stole
My father had written me every year.
Even when we lived in the same city.
Even when he stopped calling.
Even after I told myself I no longer cared.
Lucy intercepted the letters.
Some had never been mailed.
Others had been returned to my father after address changes Lucy controlled.
He saved them.
Then Lucy stole the box after he died.
I opened the letter from my eighteenth birthday.
Ana,
I know you think I chose Lucy over you.
You are right.
I keep telling myself I am preserving peace.
The truth is I am afraid of conflict.
I have turned cowardice into a parenting philosophy.
I cried.
Not because the letter repaired anything.
It did not.
Because my father had known.
He had understood himself.
And still kept doing it.
The nineteenth birthday letter said he had begun questioning my mother's psychiatric records.
The twentieth said Lucy threatened to expose his involvement in Victor's intimidation.
The twenty-first said he wanted to tell me everything.
He did not.
Year after year.
Intent.
Fear.
Silence.
Slap sixteen was not against Lucy.
It landed on the version of my father I had protected in my mind.
Sienna sat across from me.
"I thought you hated him."
"I did sometimes."
"Did he hate you?"
"No."
That made it worse.
Love without courage had not protected me.
Sienna began crying.
"Lucy made me read some of these."
I looked up.
"When?"
"Years ago."
"Why?"
"She said I needed to understand how weak he was."
"Why would she show you?"
"Because she wanted me loyal."
Sienna had become Lucy's media weapon.
The same pattern.
Make someone feel chosen.
Give them secrets.
Turn loyalty into debt.
I asked.
"Where is Lucy?"
Sienna gave Rachel an address.
A private rehabilitation retreat in Wisconsin.
Lucy had checked in under another name.
Police found her the next morning.
She did not resist.
She looked almost relieved.
Then she asked for me.
Rachel said no.
I said yes.
We met in an interview room.
Lucy wore no makeup.
She looked older.
"Are you enjoying this?"
"No."
"Liar."
"I enjoyed the gala for about thirty seconds."
"Then I learned my father helped cover up my mother's death."
Lucy smiled faintly.
"Good."
"You wanted that to hurt me."
"Yes."
At least she was finally honest.
"Why did you hate my mother?"
Lucy's eyes changed.
"I didn't."
"Then why?"
"Because Jonathan loved her."
"He married you."
"He loved her."
Lucy looked at the table.
"Even after she died."
I almost laughed.
"So this was jealousy?"
"No."
She looked at me.
"Jealousy was the beginning."
"What was the rest?"
"Your mother found out who I was."
"Meaning?"
Lucy leaned closer.
"I wasn't stealing from the foundation for myself."
"Then for who?"
She smiled.
"Ask Miriam what her husband did for a living."
I froze.
Miriam's late husband had been a federal judge.
Lucy whispered.
"Your mother's investigation reached much higher than me."
Then she requested a lawyer.
The door opened.
Miriam stood outside.
May you like
Her face told me Lucy had finally found a secret that frightened her too.
