Chapter 6 - The Wooden Box
The cabin walls seemed to shrink around me. The air grew impossibly thin.
“That’s a lie,” I breathed, staring at the photograph. “My mother never had another child. She was married to my father until the day he died.”
“She was,” Lauren agreed, her voice thick with bitterness. “But before your father, she was married to a man named Arthur Vance. A man who beat her black and blue. A man she finally ran away from in the middle of the night.”
Lauren stood up, dropping the ledger onto the chair.
“She took you,” Lauren said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You were two years old. But she left me in my crib. She left me with a monster because she could only carry one child out the window.”
My mind raced, desperately trying to reject what she was saying. But memories flashed through my head. My mother’s intense, lifelong fear of loud noises. The way she always kept her bags packed in the hall closet when I was a child. The fact that she never, ever talked about her life before she met my father.
“Daniel found out,” Lauren continued. “He found Arthur’s old arrest records. He tracked me down. He told me that my mother had died a millionaire, and that she left everything to the daughter she actually loved.”
“He used your grief,” I realized aloud, the sick genius of my husband’s plan finally snapping into focus.
“He promised me half the company if I helped him forge the asset transfer,” Lauren cried. “Because as a direct blood descendant, my signature could legally contest the trust if Sarah signed off on the internal audit. But he was playing me, too. He was going to take the money and leave us both with nothing.”
I looked at the young woman standing in front of me. She wasn't just a mistress. She was a deeply broken girl looking for the mother who had abandoned her, manipulated by a sociopath.
“Lauren,” I said gently, stepping forward. “My mother didn’t leave you.”
Lauren sneered. “You don’t know that!”
“I do,” I said. I pointed to the old cedar floorboards beneath the rug. “Because I know what she buried under this cabin.”
I walked past her, dropped to my knees, and pulled back the heavy wool rug. I used the butt of the flashlight to pry up a loose floorboard near the fireplace.
I reached into the dark cavity and pulled out an old, heavily varnished wooden rosary box. It was the box my mother told me to open only if my life was in absolute danger.
I placed it on the table and used the silver key Ellie had found in the pearl necklace. The lock clicked.
Inside wasn't jewelry or money. It was a thick stack of court documents and a handwritten letter.
I handed the letter to Lauren.
She took it, her hands trembling as she read our mother’s handwriting.
My dearest Lauren, if you are reading this, I am already gone. I didn't leave you because I didn't love you. I left you because Arthur wasn't your father. Your father was a good, kind man Arthur killed in a jealous rage. Arthur kept you as a hostage to force me to stay. When I finally ran, the police told me if I took you, Arthur could charge me with kidnapping, and he would use his wealth to take both of you away from me forever. I had to leave you so the state would put you in foster care, far away from him. It was the only way to save your life.
Lauren dropped the letter, sobbing uncontrollably, collapsing onto the dusty floor of the cabin.
Suddenly, the front door burst open.
May you like
Daniel stood in the doorway, holding a tire iron, his eyes completely wild.
“How touching,” he sneered, stepping into the cabin. “Now, give me the box, or I cave your skull in.”
