Chapter 2 - The Envelope Meant for the War
My hands were still shaking when I tore the flap open.
A letter first. My father's handwriting — narrow, slanted, careful. Under it, a stack of legal pages I couldn't read fast enough to understand.
"Read the letter before anything else," Howard said.
Rachel,
You came because you wanted to, not because you owed me anything. You'll never know how much that matters.
I couldn't reach you when you were small. Not because I didn't want you — because someone made very sure I never could. I'm ashamed it took me until the end of my life to fight that. What I'm leaving you isn't a gift. It's a job. And you're the only person I trust to carry it.
I looked up. "What does that mean, a job?"
Howard folded his hands on the table. "Your father rewrote his will six days ago. The morning after you arrived."
Behind him, the door opened without a knock. Vanessa stood in the frame, and the color had drained out of her face.
"You already told her." Barely a breath.
Then her voice came back hard.
"She has been in this house for one week. One. I gave this family my entire life. I moved back here. I ran his appointments, his medications, his business calls, while he got worse every single month. And you let a stranger walk in and take it in seven days?"
"Vanessa—" Howard started.
"Don't." Her finger came up, aimed at me, trembling. "Whatever's on those pages, I will fight it. Line by line. Word by word. I'll spend every dollar I have doing it."
She turned and walked out. Her heels hit the hardwood like hammer strikes all the way down the hall.
Howard waited until the sound was gone.
"There's one more piece," he said carefully. "Something your father included that Vanessa doesn't know exists yet."
May you like
He set a second envelope on the table. Smaller. Sealed.
"He told me you'd need this the day the fight started."
