Then back to him. “This isn’t over.”
He nodded. “I’ll be here. My number’s at the bottom of the letter.”
I didn’t reply. I just walked back inside, the envelope still in my hand.
And for the first time in fifteen years, I had no idea what came next.
I stood in the kitchen a moment longer than necessary after helping Dora with the oven. She insisted on baking cookies.
Her sisters were nearby—one scrolling on her phone, the other leaning against the fridge.
I set the envelope on the table.
“We need to talk,” I said.
All three looked up.
Something in my voice must’ve told them this was serious, because no one joked.
Jenny crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”
I glanced toward the front door. “Your father was here.”
Lyra blinked. “Who?”
I didn’t soften it.
“Your dad.”
Dora let out a small laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious.”
Her expression dropped immediately.
Jenny straightened. “The man you were talking to outside?”
“Yes.”
Lyra spoke next. “Why now?”
I picked up the envelope.
“He brought this. I need you to sit down.”
They did.
They didn’t interrupt while I spoke. That surprised me.
I explained the letter first.
The debts. The pressure. The decisions Edwin made.
And why he believed leaving would protect them.
Jenny looked away halfway through. Lyra leaned forward, focused. Dora stared at the table.
Then I showed them the documents.
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