“Ask your grandmother,” he said smoothly.
As if on cue, Estelle entered, her expression cold and resolute. She walked past Barbara’s glare and Robert’s protests.
“Sweetheart,” she said, turning to me, her voice softening. “I wanted you to see them for who they really are.”
Confused, I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
“My son made many mistakes,” Estelle explained. “But before he passed, he wanted to divide his estate fairly among all three of you. However, he knew they would try to cheat you.”
Robert Jr. and Barbara erupted in anger, but Estelle silenced them with a raised hand.
“Mr. Davis, please read my son’s exact words,” she instructed.
The notary began reading from the folder. “To my children: If you are hearing this, I am gone. I want my estate divided fairly. However, if any of you attempt to take more than your share, the entire estate will go to Emily.”
Barbara gasped. Robert shouted in frustration. Mr. Davis continued, “Your actions today have triggered this clause. Emily, his estate is now yours.”
He handed me a sealed envelope. “Your father left this for you.”
I opened it with trembling hands.
Emily,
I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for not being there, for walking away. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I convinced myself you were better off without me, but I was wrong.
As I faced my own mortality, I saw the truth. I looked at the life you built—your strength, independence, and resilience. I’m proud of you.
This house, this money, it won’t make up for what I’ve done. But I hope it shows that I thought of you until the end. I’m sorry I couldn’t say this in person. Have a wonderful life, Emily. You’ve earned it.
Tears blurred my vision. For years, I had wondered why he abandoned me. Now, I understood—he had been afraid, flawed, but also proud of me.
Estelle escorted Robert Jr. and Barbara out of the house as they protested. I hardly heard them, lost in the letter.
Mr. Davis explained the legal process, but his words felt distant. As the house grew quiet, I was left alone with my father’s legacy.
Sitting in his study, I wondered if we could ever truly know someone after they’re gone. Maybe not completely. But his words—this piece of him—gave me what I needed to finally let go.