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You made your choices. I made mine. Everything I own will go to Emerald, the only person who ever truly loved me, not just used me as a bank. You may think you’ve gotten away with it, but I assure you, you haven’t. The truth always comes out.
Do you remember when Emerald was little and you accused me of having favorites? You said I loved her more than you. The truth is, I loved you both in different ways, but equally. The difference was that she loved me unconditionally, without expecting anything in return.
I still love you. I will always love you. But I can’t trust you.
Mom”
My hands shook as I opened the last letter. It was from my mother to my grandmother, dated just two days earlier, after my grandmother’s death.
The writing was composed of sharp, angry strokes on the page:
“Mom,
All right. You won. I admit it. I took the money. I needed it. You never knew what that adrenaline rush, that need, feels like. But guess what? Your little Machiavellian plan won’t work. Emerald adores me. She’ll give me anything I ask for. Even her inheritance. Because she loves me. So, in the end, I win.
Maybe now you can stop trying to control everyone from the afterlife. Goodbye.
Victoria
That night I couldn’t sleep. I wandered around the apartment, reliving memories that now seemed distorted, rearranging themselves under the weight of this new, harsh truth.
The Christmas gifts that had always seemed too extravagant. The times my mother had “lent” me her credit card in case of emergency. The seemingly innocent conversations about grandma’s money, presented as the concern of a thoughtful daughter.
“Have you ever spoken to the mother of the prosecutor’s office?” he asked me one day. “You know how she is, she always forgets.”
“He appears to be in excellent health,” I replied.
“I’m taking precautions, darling. We need to protect our assets.”
It was greed, nothing but greed. My mother had betrayed her mother, and now she was betraying me. By dawn, my eyes were red from exhaustion, but my mind was clear. I called her, keeping calm.
“Mom? Can we go get a coffee? I have something important for you.”
“What’s up, darling?” His voice was filled with concern. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine. It’s about Grandma. She left you something. She told me to give it to you ‘at the right time.’”
“Oh!” The excitement in her voice made me nauseous. “Sure, honey. Where are we meeting?”
“And why not the quiet cafe on Mill Street?”
“Perfect. You’re such a caring girl, Emerald. So different from how I was with my mother.”
The irony was cruel. “Two hours,” I said, and ended the call.
That afternoon, the bell above the café door rang just as she walked in. Her gaze immediately fell on my bag, which was sitting on the table.
He was wearing his favorite red blazer, the one he reserved for special occasions.
Sitting down, she reached across the striped wooden table and took mine. “You look so tired, darling. This must be really hard for you. You and your grandmother were inseparable.”
