But there was one more letter—this one from my mother. Written after the funeral, it admitted everything. “I took the money,” she wrote. “But Emerald loves me. She’ll give me the inheritance anyway. I still win.” I stayed up all night, connecting the dots—her expensive gifts, her requests for my credit card, her questions about Grandma’s will. By morning, I had made my decision.
I invited her to a café, handed her two letters—Grandma’s and mine. In my letter, I warned her: I had the rest, and if she ever tried to manipulate me again, I’d reveal everything. She was speechless. I stood up, looked her in the eye, and said, “I love you, Mom. But you lost my trust forever.” Some truths can’t stay buried. And some betrayals leave wounds that never heal.