Damian slid the first folder across the table. Inside was a stack of yellowed, brittle papers—letters and documents dating back over forty years.
“This,” he said quietly, “is what Catherine found. And what she’s been holding over you.”
I stared, heart pounding, as he pulled out the top letter. The elegant handwriting was unmistakably my mother’s—words written decades ago, before I was born, before Kenneth or Catherine ever entered our lives.
The letter revealed a secret family scandal—one that had been carefully buried but never forgotten. My mother had made a desperate plea for help when I was a child, a plea that involved Catherine’s family in ways I never could have imagined. The letter implied betrayal, abandonment, and a fracture that had long festered beneath the surface of our supposedly perfect family ties.
Damian looked me in the eyes. “Catherine’s resentment isn’t just petty jealousy. It’s deeply personal. And she’s been waiting for the right moment to destroy you.”
The weight of his words crushed me. Suddenly, the years of subtle cruelty and open hostility made a tragic kind of sense. Catherine’s hatred wasn’t just about me—it was about something much darker, something she’d never forgiven.
As the pieces fell into place, I realized that the shattered photographs, the humiliating rejection, and Kenneth’s silence were all parts of a calculated move to erase me from their lives. And yet, here I was—still standing.
