I couldn’t stop.
After learning about the lawyer, a new obsession took over me. If my mother had been planning to leave, she must have written something down. She always kept journals when I was younger.
While Daddy was away for a few hours inspecting the other side of the island, I begged Mr. Reynolds for help. He hesitated for a long time but finally led me to a small storage room in the basement of the villa.
“There,” he said, pointing to an old locked box tucked behind some furniture. “Your mother asked me to keep this safe before she died. I never opened it.”
He handed me a small key, then left me alone, clearly nervous.
My hands shook as I opened the box.
Inside was a leather-bound diary, worn and familiar. My mother’s handwriting filled the pages. I sat on the cold floor and b
