Chapter 5: The Truth Nobody Told Me
My aunt arrived the next morning.
I hadn’t seen her in years.
The last memory I had was of her crying at my mother’s funeral.
She hugged me tightly.
Too tightly.
Like she was trying to apologize without words.
“Alex,” she whispered.
I stepped back.
“What’s going on?””
She looked at Dad.
Then at me.
“Your father was supposed to tell you.””
My stomach dropped.
“Tell me what?””
Dad looked uncomfortable.
“Amanda…”
My aunt shook her head.
“No. He deserves to know.””
I looked between them.
“Know what?””
She sat down.
“Your mother didn’t want Linda in your life.””
The room went quiet.
“What?””
My aunt took a deep breath.
“Before your mother passed away, she discovered Linda was trying to get close to your father.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“I didn’t know.””
My aunt looked at him.
“You knew enough to be careful.””
I stared at Dad.
“What does this mean?””
My aunt reached into her purse.
She pulled out an envelope.
“This was your mother’s.””
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was familiar.
The kind of handwriting I had seen on birthday cards.
My eyes filled before I even finished the first sentence.
“Alex, if you are reading this, something happened that stopped me from telling you myself…”
I looked up.
“She knew?””
Dad nodded slowly.
“She knew she was sick.””
The room became blurry.
I kept reading.
The letter wasn’t about money.
It wasn’t about revenge.
It was about love.
My mother had written that she wanted me to be kind, but never allow kindness to become a reason people hurt me.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
And my hands froze.
“Your father may not see it now, but there is something you need to know about Linda. She was never afraid of losing Daniel. She was afraid of losing control.””
I looked at Dad.
“She knew.””
He nodded.
“She knew.””
My aunt leaned forward.
“There’s one more thing.””
“What?””
She looked at the envelope.
“Your mother left evidence.””
“Evidence of what?””
My aunt hesitated.
“Of what Linda did before the marriage.””
Dad stood suddenly.
“Wait.””
My aunt looked at him.
“It’s time.””
I stared at both of them.
“What did she do?””
Nobody answered immediately.
Then my aunt said:
“Linda didn’t enter your father’s life by accident.””
The room felt colder.
“She planned it.””
My heart started pounding.
Dad reached for another folder.
The same kind of folder he had shown me before.
But this one was older.
Much older.
And on the front was a date.
A date from before my mother died.
Dad placed it in front of me.
“I spent years trying to convince myself this wasn’t true.””
I opened it.
The first page contained a photograph.
A photograph of Linda.
Standing outside my childhood home.
My breath caught.
May you like
Because written underneath it were four words:
*She was watching us.*