Chapter 5: The Letter From Isaiah’s Mother
I didn’t open Emily’s letter immediately.
That surprised Malcolm.
He thought I would tear it open the moment it touched my hands.
But some things are too important to rush.
A letter from a dead mother to her child deserved more than shaking hands and a frightened heart.
I made coffee.
Neither of us drank it.
We sat at the kitchen table staring at the envelope between us.
Finally, Malcolm spoke.
“Mom.””
I looked up.
“I need you to know something.””
“What?””
“I loved Emily.””
The sadness in his voice almost made me cry.
“I know.””
“But after she died, everything changed.””
I stayed quiet.
“Isaiah was only three,” he continued.
“I was trying to work, raise him, pay bills, and survive.””
“And Tasha came into your life.””
He nodded.
“I thought she was saving me.””
I looked at the envelope.
“Sometimes the person who saves you isn’t the person who protects what matters.””
Malcolm looked down.
“I know that now.””
I opened the letter.
The paper was slightly yellow.
Emily’s handwriting moved across the page.
Dear Marianne,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that prevented me from protecting Isaiah myself.
I stopped.
My eyes filled immediately.
Malcolm covered his mouth.
I continued.
I need you to understand something. I trusted very few people with my son’s future. But I trusted you.
I looked at Malcolm.
He looked away.
The letter continued.
Isaiah’s inheritance was never just money. It was a promise. A promise that he would always have something that belonged only to him.
I took a deep breath.
Then I reached the part that made my hands shake.
I am afraid someone close to us does not see Isaiah as a child who needs protection. I think they see him as an obstacle.
I stopped reading.
“Mom?””
I looked at Malcolm.
“She knew.””
He looked terrified.
“Keep going.””
I continued.
I have noticed money disappearing. Small amounts at first. Then larger ones. When I asked questions, I was told I was being dramatic.
My stomach turned.
Emily knew.
She had tried to warn someone.
She had tried to protect Isaiah.
The next lines were even worse.
If anything happens to me, please watch carefully. Do not let anyone convince you that protecting the family means sacrificing Isaiah.
I lowered the letter.
Malcolm was crying silently.
“She knew,” he whispered.
“Yes.””
“She knew before I did.””
I didn’t answer.
Because the truth was painful.
Emily had seen what nobody else wanted to see.
The letter continued.
There is one more thing.
A piece of evidence.
I hid it somewhere only Isaiah would eventually find.
A small wooden box.
Inside is the truth about what happened to the money.
My heart started racing.
“What wooden box?””
Malcolm shook his head.
“I don’t know.””
I read the final paragraph.
Marianne, if you are reading this, please do one thing for me.
Tell Isaiah that his mother never forgot him.
Never for one second.
I folded the letter.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my phone rang.
Isaiah.
I answered immediately.
“Hi, sweetheart.””
His small voice came through.
“Grandma?””
“Yes?””
“Can I ask you something?””
“Of course.””
“Am I going to have to leave?””
My heart broke.
“What?””
“I heard Mom and Dad talking.””
I looked at Malcolm.
He looked devastated.
“What did you hear?””
Isaiah was quiet.
Then he whispered:
“Dad said someone might take me away.””
I closed my eyes.
“No one is taking you away, sweetheart.””
“Promise?””
I swallowed hard.
“I promise.””
After I hung up, Malcolm stood.
“I need to talk to Tasha.””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“Mom.””
“You need to think.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means she knows we found out.””
His face changed.
“What?””
I pointed toward the table.
“The bank called me.””
Malcolm froze.
“They called you?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because someone tried to move the remaining funds.””
He looked confused.
“Mom, I didn’t tell the bank to call you.””
“I know.””
“Then why?””
I looked at the letter.
At Emily’s warning.
At the words:
I hid it somewhere only Isaiah would eventually find.
And suddenly, something didn’t make sense.
“Malcolm.””
“What?””
“Who knew about the hidden evidence?””
His face went pale.
“What evidence?””
“The wooden box.””
He stared at me.
“I never heard about any box.””
I felt a chill.
Because if Malcolm didn’t know…
And I didn’t know…
Then someone else did.
My phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
Stop looking for what Emily hid.
And beneath it was a picture.
May you like
A picture of Isaiah’s wooden box.
Already opened.