Chapter 4 - THE LETTER SHE NEVER SENT
“Answered?”
Ava stared at Arthur Bell.
“What do you mean, answered?”
The attorney kept his eyes on the envelopes.
“Your mother received a letter that appeared to come from you.”
Ava's fingers tightened.
“What did it say?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Please.”
He looked toward the ballroom.
“Not here.”
Ava shook her head.
“You've spent three years deciding what I was allowed to know. You're finished doing that.”
Arthur opened the oldest envelope.
Inside was a cream-colored sheet of paper.
Victoria had written only a few paragraphs.
My beautiful Ava, I am alive. I am trying to find a safe way home. Please don't believe anyone who tells you I chose to leave you.
Ava pressed her fingers against her lips.
There was more.
I remember the blue bicycle you refused to give up when the brakes stopped working. You said anything could be fixed if somebody loved it enough. I wish I could tell you how many nights I've held on to that memory.
Ava remembered the bicycle.
She had been eleven.
Her mother had spent an entire Sunday repairing it because Ava refused to replace something her grandfather had given her.
No stranger could have invented that memory.
Ava unfolded the next letter.
It was dated on her twenty-fourth birthday.
I don't know where you are, sweetheart. I hope you're surrounded by people who love you. I have made mistakes. When we are together again, I won't ask you to forgive me before I explain them.
Ava sat down.
Her shoulders began trembling.
For three years, she had saved every birthday card her mother had ever given her.
She had read them on nights when she couldn't sleep.
And while she was rereading old words, new ones had been waiting in somebody else's desk.
Arthur reached into his briefcase.
“This is what your mother received in return.”
He gave Ava a photocopy of a letter.
It was typed.
Mother, I know you're alive. I don't want you back. Your name destroyed my chance at a normal life. Leave me alone. If you ever loved me, stay away.
Beneath the words was Ava's name.
Her stomach turned.
“I never wrote this.”
“I know.”
“Did you write it?”
Arthur shook his head.
“No. Conrad's office prepared it. I allowed it to be sent.”
Ava stood so abruptly that the chair scraped against the floor.
“You stood beside me at Mom's memorial!”
Arthur's face crumpled.
“I know.”
“You held my hand!”
“I remember.”
“And you let her believe I hated her?”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Ava wanted to scream.
Instead, she walked straight back into the ballroom.
Victoria saw her immediately.
“Ava?”
Her daughter crossed the marble floor carrying the envelopes.
“Did you believe this?”
Victoria looked at the photocopy.
All the color left her face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Arthur.”
Victoria took the page.
She read it slowly.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I believed it.”
Ava's eyes filled.
“Why?”
Victoria looked at her daughter.
“Because I knew I had made your life difficult long before the plane crash.”
Ava went still.
Victoria continued.
“I married Conrad when you were thirteen. I believed bringing him into our family would give you stability.”
“It didn't.”
“I know that now.”
“You were always working.”
“Yes.”
“And when I told you Conrad made me uncomfortable, you said I needed to give him a chance.”
Victoria's expression broke.
“I remember.”
Ava stepped closer.
“You believed I hated you because some part of you thought I'd finally given up.”
Victoria didn't defend herself.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt both of them.
Conrad approached with Meredith beside him.
“This is touching,” he said. “But the financial situation hasn't changed.”
Victoria folded the fake letter.
“What did you do with the originals?”
Conrad raised an eyebrow.
“What originals?”
“My correspondence. My daughter's correspondence. The family trust records.”
“You can ask your attorney.”
“I'm asking you.”
Meredith stepped between them.
“Your daughter has spent years causing problems. Maybe she should consider why people stopped helping her.”
Ava turned.
“Did you know about these letters?”
Meredith looked away.
That was answer enough.
Sloane stood near the champagne tower, watching her mother carefully.
“Mom?”
Meredith said nothing.
Sloane's voice rose.
“You told me Ava never tried to contact anybody.”
“She didn't,” Meredith snapped.
“She was waiting for her mother!”
“And what was I supposed to do?” Meredith demanded. “Let Victoria walk back into our lives and destroy everything we'd built?”
Silence followed.
Even Conrad seemed irritated by the admission.
Meredith caught herself.
“I mean after everything we'd done to save the companies.”
Victoria studied her.
“Save them from what?”
Conrad checked his watch.
“That's enough.”
But Victoria wasn't looking at him anymore.
She was looking at the black-gold crest pinned to Sloane's dress.
“Where did that come from?”
“Dad gave it to me,” Sloane answered.
“When?”
“My twenty-third birthday.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“Turn it over.”
Sloane hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because my mother had two crests commissioned. One for the family collection. One for the successor she intended to protect.”
Ava touched the smaller pendant at her throat.
Victoria nodded.
“Yours was the second.”
Sloane looked down at her own brooch.
“Then what is this?”
“The first crest was supposed to remain attached to the original family register.”
Arthur suddenly lifted his head.
“Victoria.”
She turned.
“What?”
Arthur looked at Conrad.
“The register was removed from the company archive eighteen months after the crash.”
Victoria's expression sharpened.
“Who authorized it?”
Arthur swallowed.
“Conrad.”
Meredith stepped backward.
Conrad's voice became cold.
“Those records were consolidated. Nothing more.”
Victoria approached Sloane.
“May I see the back?”
For a moment, Sloane looked ready to refuse.
Then she unfastened the brooch and handed it over.
Victoria examined the blackened gold.
The tiny maker's mark near the hinge was unmistakable.
But the mounting had been replaced.
A narrow strip of gold had been cut away from the back.
Victoria passed it to Arthur.
His hands began shaking.
“What is it?” Ava asked.
Arthur looked toward Conrad.
“That strip held the register's identifying number. Without it, anyone examining the archive might believe the ownership records belonged to a different branch of the family.”
Conrad's jaw tightened.
Victoria's voice dropped.
“Where is the original register?”
Arthur answered before Conrad could speak.
“I don't know.”
Then he reached into his briefcase and removed a single page of shipping records.
“I found this in the archive transfer file.”
Victoria read the destination.
Her expression changed.
Ava leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
May you like
Victoria looked up.
“Conrad transferred my family's ownership register to the same warehouse where I was photographed alive.”
