Letters.
And one handwritten note from my father.
My hands began trembling before I finished the first paragraph.
Claire, if you are reading this, then Charles has failed to keep the promise he made me.
I stopped breathing.
Vanessa looked away.
I continued.
My father explained everything.
He had learned Charles was misusing partnership funds.
He planned to remove him.
But then my father became seriously ill.
He did not tell me because I was nineteen and already grieving my mother’s recent d/e/@/th.
He placed his remaining investment into a protected account intended for me.
Charles had promised to administer it until I turned twenty-five.
He had never intended Charles to own a cent of it.
At the bottom, my father had written:
Do not let money make you bitter, Claire. Recover what is yours, but remember that your life will always be worth more than any account balance.
