Elena, I failed you, it began. When your mother died, I was a hollow shell. Diane appeared like a miracle, but she was a parasite. I married her too fast. When Preston was born, I didn’t question it. But the transplant revealed the lie. Diane had an affair with a colleague, Marcus Bennett. I tried to divorce her—I did divorce her, legally, five years ago—but she stayed. She used my stroke to isolate me. She blocked your calls. She told me you hated me. I hired the investigators just to see your face. This will is my last chance to make things right. I’m sorry, my daughter. I love you. I always—
The letter ended there. The pen had trailed off the page.
Preston looked up at me, his eyes wet. “The divorce… they were already divorced?”
“Check the papers, Preston. She’s been a squatter in this house for five years, playing the role of the grieving wife trong khi she controlled Dad’s medical decisions.”
“She made me hate you,” Preston whispered. “She told me you were the one who didn’t belong.”
“And tomorrow, at 10:00 a.m., the whole world is going to find out the truth,” I said.
Preston stood up, his face hardening into a mask of pure horror. “Elena, if this comes out… I have nothing. I don’t know who I am.”
“You’re the child of a woman who built a kingdom on a lie,” I said. “Whatever happens next is on her.”
I walked out of the room, leaving him sitting in the dark among the photos of the sister he had spent a lifetime despising.
