Chapter 3 - The Letters Began After Walter Got Sick
Walter was my father’s older brother.
He never had children.
Which made me and my cousins the closest younger generation in his life.
He had built a successful logistics company, sold most of it years earlier, and lived comfortably in the mansion where the birthday party took place.
The important thing about Walter was not money.
It was authority.
For decades, family gatherings happened when Walter scheduled them.
Arguments ended when Walter got tired of hearing them.
People cared deeply about what he thought.
Then he had a mild stroke.
He recovered well physically but became more dependent on relatives for paperwork and household administration.
Vivienne stepped in immediately.
She organized appointments.
Handled correspondence.
Managed invitations.
Controlled who saw him when he was tired.
Again, it looked helpful.
Then letters started arriving for Lila.
Handwritten.
Unsigned.
The first said:
Your mother never belonged here. Neither do you.
Lila hid it.
The second:
Stop asking Walter questions.
The third:
Children who cause trouble stop getting invited.
By then she showed me.
I asked where she found them.
“In my backpack.”
I assumed another child was being cruel.
We talked to school.
Nothing.
Then a fourth letter appeared during a family weekend at Walter’s house.
Not school.
Inside Lila’s overnight bag.
That narrowed things.
Someone in the family.
Still, I did not suspect Vivienne.
Not yet.
Lila did.
“Her perfume is on the paper.”
I almost smiled.
I wish I hadn’t.
Children notice details adults dismiss because they sound childish.
Vivienne wore the same heavy floral perfume every day.
The letter smelled exactly like it.
I told Lila:
“That doesn’t prove Aunt Vivienne wrote it.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
That expression came back to me after the birthday cake.
She wasn’t asking me to convict someone.
She was asking me to believe there was something worth checking.
May you like
I didn’t.
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