Chapter 8
Elena had left behind more than letters.
Marcus brought the locked file to my study that night.
He should have shown me years ago.
He knew it.
I knew it.
Ava sat beside me.
She insisted.
Marcus did not argue.
“Elena investigated Simon before she died,” he said.
My hands tightened.
“For what?”
“Embezzlement. Coercion. Attempts to manipulate family trusts through marriages.”
Ava frowned.
“Through marriages?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Simon introduced Celeste to you.”
I closed my eyes.
I remembered.
A charity dinner.
Simon laughing.
Celeste in a silver dress.
Her saying she admired how devoted I was to my daughter.
I had thought it was kindness.
It was a sales pitch.
Marcus opened the file.
Elena had gathered emails, accounts, and notes.
She believed Simon was searching for a woman who could enter the Vale household and gain influence over Ava’s trust after Elena’s death.
But Elena died before she could expose him.
Car accident.
Rain.
A truck running a red light.
I had accepted the official report because grief left no room for suspicion.
Ava whispered, “Was Mom’s accident really an accident?”
No one answered.
That was answer enough.
The investigation reopened.
Quietly at first.
Then loudly when Simon admitted Elena had threatened to report him the week before she died.
The truck driver had died in prison years ago.
But payments to his family led back to Simon.
Not Celeste.
Simon.
Celeste had come after.
Built on the grave.
Ava stood and walked out of the room.
I followed her to the garden.
She stood under the dark sky, shaking.
“She took Mom’s room. Mom’s letters. My clothes. My food. And now she was part of why Mom died?”
“Celeste may not have known then.”
Ava turned on me.
“You’re defending her?”
“No.”
I stopped.
“No. I’m trying to make facts smaller because the truth is too big.”
Ava’s face crumpled.
“I don’t want it smaller.”
So I told her the truth.
“I think Simon helped cause your mother’s death. I think Celeste knew enough later and used it. And I think I let both of them near you because I was too broken to ask hard questions.”
Ava sobbed.
I held her while she hit my chest with both fists.
Not hard.
Enough.
“I needed you,” she cried.
“I know.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I still love you.”
May you like
That broke me clean open.
“I’ll love you through that too,” I whispered.
