Diane had always claimed she barely knew anything about the trust until I turned sixteen.
Thomas sent me a scanned copy.
I opened it.
The date was eight months before my biological parents’ accident.
Diane’s handwriting covered two pages.
And in the first paragraph, my understanding of what had happened shattered one final time.
Eleanor hadn’t asked Diane to watch me after the accident.
Diane had been my nanny.
She had lived with my parents for almost a year.
And the letter was a confession.
She admitted she had become obsessed with Michael Vale.
My biological father.
She believed he loved her.
He didn’t.
When he rejected her, Diane threatened to tell Eleanor that they had slept together.
The letter apologized.
Begged for forgiveness.
Promised to stay away from their family.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
My hands began shaking.
Diane had written:
“If Michael will never choose me, at least one day his daughter will.”
