Chapter 1 - “What Do You Want Now?”Victoria slammed the bedroom door behind her so hard that the framed wedding photograph on the wall shook.
I stared at her.
For three months, my mother had been showing up at my house with one emergency after another.
Her car needed repairs.
Her credit card had been frozen.
Her roof supposedly leaked.
She needed money for a “temporary medical expense” she refused to explain.
And every time I asked for details, she became offended.
That night, I finally snapped.
“I’m tired of this!”
Victoria stopped.
“What do you want now? A new car? More money?”
Her face changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
That made me even more frustrated.
“Mom, I already paid your mortgage for six months.”
“I know.”
“I covered your insurance.”
“I know.”
“I gave you twenty thousand dollars in January.”
“I know.”
“So what is it now?”
My younger brother Daniel appeared in the hallway.
“What’s going on here, Mom?”
Victoria looked from him to me.
Her hands began trembling.
For the first time, I noticed she was carrying an old leather folder.
The edges were worn white.
She sat slowly on the edge of my bed.
Then whispered:
“There’s something I’ve been hiding from you.”
Daniel and I exchanged a look.
I crossed my arms.
“What?”
Victoria opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Bank statements.
Hospital records.
And a photograph.
A little girl stood in the photograph.
Maybe six years old.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
Standing beside our father.
My father had been dead for seven years.
I picked up the photograph.
“Who is she?”
Victoria covered her mouth.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Mom?”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“She’s your sister.”
The room became completely silent.
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because my mind rejected the sentence.
“Our what?”
“Your sister.”
Daniel grabbed the photograph.
“That’s Dad.”
“Yes.”
“Who is the girl?”
Victoria whispered:
“Her name is Emily.”
My stomach tightened.
“How old is she now?”
“Nineteen.”
I stared at my mother.
“Nineteen?”
“Yes.”
“You have hidden a sister from us for nineteen years?”
Victoria looked down.
“No.”
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
“I only learned she existed after your father died.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Victoria opened another document.
A letter.
My father’s handwriting.
Across the top:
FOR VICTORIA — ONLY IF I DON’T COME HOME.
Suddenly the money didn’t matter anymore.
The car didn’t matter.
The arguments didn’t matter.
May you like
Something had been buried inside our family for years.
And my mother had finally decided to open the grave.
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