PART4

Do not open anything you found in that jacket.

I stared at those words until the letters blurred.

My sister had just confirmed that she knew exactly what Abby had discovered.

I picked up the phone and typed a single question.

How do you know we found something?

The message showed as delivered.

For several seconds, there was no reply.

Then my phone rang.

This time, I answered.

“What did you put in that jacket, Marla?”

Her breathing was ragged.

“Jen, listen to me carefully. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t explain over the phone.”

“You took seventy-five thousand dollars from Tom while I was struggling to pay for his treatment!”

Silence.

I pressed my hand against my mouth.

I hadn’t meant to reveal that I had seen the bank statement, but the words had escaped before I could stop them.

When Marla finally spoke, her voice had changed.

“Where did you get that information?”

“Answer my question!”

“Jen, please. Just give me the envelope. I’ll pay you back. I’ll give you more than the eighty dollars. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you hand everything over and forget you ever saw it.”

Ten thousand dollars.

The last time I had asked her for twenty dollars to buy groceries, she had laughed at me.

Now she was offering ten thousand dollars to make me disappear from a secret she had helped create.

I looked at Tom’s letter.

Then at Abby’s jacket, lying across the back of a chair.

“No,” I said.

Marla’s voice sharpened.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“If you take those papers to the police, you’ll destroy this family!”

I closed my eyes.

“You should have thought about our family before you took money meant for your brother-in-law’s daughter.”

I ended the call.

For a long time, I sat perfectly still.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to drive to Marla’s house and demand answers. I wanted to ask Tom why he had carried this burden alone while I sat beside his hospital bed, believing we had nothing left.

But none of those things would bring him back.

And Abby was still in her bedroom, waiting for me to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

I gathered the documents, put them back inside the envelope, and hid it in a locked drawer.

Then I walked down the hallway.

Abby was sitting on her bed, holding a photograph of her father.

“Mommy,” she said softly, “is Aunt Marla angry because I found something that belonged to Daddy?”

I sat beside her.

“I think Aunt Marla is worried about something, sweetheart. But you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Are we going to be okay?”

I wrapped my arms around her.

“Yes,” I whispered, although I wasn’t entirely sure how we would manage it. “We’re going to figure this out together.”

That night, after Abby fell asleep, I called the attorney whose number was written inside the envelope.

A woman answered on the second ring.

“Good evening. This is the office of Eleanor Brooks.”

“My name is Jennifer. My husband was Thomas Miller. He passed away eight months ago.”

There was a pause.

Then her tone became very serious.

“Mrs. Miller, I’ve been wondering when you would call.”

My heart began racing again.

“You knew my husband?”

“Yes. I handled several matters for him before his death.”

“Did you know about the money?”

“I know about the account he established for you and your daughter. I also know that he became concerned about certain transactions shortly before he died.”

I gripped the phone.

“Was my sister involved?”

The attorney was silent for a moment.

“Mrs. Miller, I can’t responsibly discuss the details until I verify your identity and review the documents you have. But I strongly recommend that you come to my office tomorrow morning.”

“Why?”

“Because your husband left instructions that I was to give you a particular file if you ever contacted me about the missing funds.”

I swallowed.

“What file?”

“The file containing the original authorization records, the account history, and the documents he signed shortly before his final hospitalization.”

My throat tightened.

“Does it prove my sister stole the money?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions before reviewing the evidence. But I can tell you this: your husband was very concerned about protecting you and Abby.”

I looked toward my daughter’s bedroom.

“What should I do tonight?”

“Keep every document you found. Do not hand anything over to anyone who pressures you. And please, don’t confront your sister until we have had a chance to speak.”

After we hung up, I sat beside the kitchen window and watched the streetlights flicker against the glass.

For the first time since Tom’s death, I felt something other than grief.

I felt afraid.

But beneath that fear, a small, stubborn spark had begun to grow.

My husband had not left us completely unprotected.

He had left me a trail.

And I intended to follow it.

I didn’t know what I would discover at the attorney’s office the next morning.

I didn’t know why Marla had hidden documents inside a child’s jacket, or what she believed would happen if those papers reached the wrong hands.

But I knew one thing.

I would never again let my sister convince me that I was powerless simply because I was poor.

And when I finally discovered why Tom had chosen that particular jacket, I would understand that the most important thing he had left behind wasn’t the money.

It was the truth.

The next morning, I left Abby with our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Collins, and drove to Eleanor Brooks’s office with Tom’s envelope tucked inside my purse.

I hadn’t slept more than two hours.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marla’s face when she demanded the jacket back. I heard the panic in her voice when she realized I might have discovered something.

And I kept thinking about the $75,000.

How could my sister take that much money while I was struggling to buy groceries for her own niece?

When I arrived, Eleanor greeted me at the door. She was a woman in her early sixties, with silver hair, kind eyes, and the serious expression of someone who had spent years delivering difficult news.

She led me into a small conference room.

“Jennifer, before we begin, I want you to know that your husband cared deeply about you and Abby. He was determined to make sure you would be protected, even if he couldn’t be here to do it himself.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Then why didn’t he tell me about the money?”

Eleanor opened a folder.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART5…