As Laura mourned her mother, each keepsake told a story of resilience and love—but a mysterious letter, accusing her mom of theft, shattered the solace of her grief. What secrets lay hidden in her family’s fortune, and how far would Laura go to uncover the truth? I sat cross-legged on the carpet of my mom’s room, surrounded by pieces of her life. Her favorite sweater lay in my lap, and I held it close, inhaling the faint lavender scent that still clung to it. The familiar smell bro ght a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.
Nearby, her infamous sweatpants, patched and re-patched a hundred times, lay folded. They looked more like a work of art than an article of clothing. I let out a soft laugh through my tears, shaking my head. Neil appeared in the doorway, his footsteps careful, as though he didn’t want to disturb my fragile state.
“Laura, love,” he said softly, crouching beside me. His hand rested gently on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll get through it together.” I nodded, swiping at my damp cheeks with my sleeve. “It’s just… it feels like every little thing brings her back. Even these sweatpants.” I gestured toward the well-worn fabric. “She could’ve bought a hundred new pairs, but she refused to give these up.” Neil picked them up, turning them over in his hands, the patches catching his attention. Honestly, these belong in some kind of hall of fame for persistence. Your mom had money. Why would she keep these?”
A faint smile touched my lips. “Because we weren’t always rich. My childhood was… tough. Mom worked nonstop—cleaner, caregiver, you name it. She made sacrifices just so I could have the basics. Then, out of nowhere, this huge inheritance changed everything.” Neil’s eyebrows lifted. “She never told you where it came from?” I shook my head.
“No. I asked her so many times, but she’d just get quiet or brush it off. After the money came, we didn’t have to struggle anymore, but Mom stayed the same. She taught me to respect every penny. She knew what it felt like to have nothing.” Neil wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a comforting side hug.
“You’re going to make her proud, Laura. You’ve got her strength. You’ll honor her in everything you do.” I leaned into him, letting his warmth steady me. “I hope so, Neil. I really hope so.” Neil was in the basement sorting through dusty boxes when the sharp chime of the doorbell rang out. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I opened the door to find a mail carrier standing there with a single envelope in his hand. It was addressed to my mom, in handwriting that was jagged and bold.
