I hope you know how much I love you. I hope you know everything I did I did to save you. And always remember, my princess, that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. You are the strongest woman I know. You survived events that would have destroyed anyone else. You ended those who dared lay a hand on you, and you are a force to be reckoned with.

Remember this always. And please try to remember me always as you knew me.

I love you so very much.

Daddy

I re-read the letter, both emotional and confused by it. What did Lucien do that he punished him so harshly? What did Mr. Brady say about when my father had changed the will? Almost seven years ago? And the part about me ending those who dared lay a hand on me. It makes no sense. The comment about everyone betraying him I can understand. I think he means Mom. He knew Emma wasn’t his or at last must have suspected and, if I know him, confirmed by a DNA test. It’s easy enough to do with no one being the wiser.

I read my father’s last words to try and remember him as I knew him. He had a reputation for being ruthless in business. He was ruthless with Lucien. I’d heard him speak with staff in a way that made me cringe but with me, he was only kind and good. The way those words are written is strange. He chose them with care, I can see that. Why? Why leave me this letter at all? It only raises questions.

Lucien’s words play in my mind.

“Do you ever wonder about his reaction when your mom was killed? How he didn’t really seem all that surprised or upset. Well, I mean, he was surprised that little Emma made it, I guess. But don’t you wonder?”

I shudder at the implication and set the letter aside. I’m tired, jet-lagged, and just exhausted from all that’s happened. But I’m too wound up to sleep. I stand and go to the liquor cabinet across the room. I look through it, choose something strong, a whiskey. I pour a healthy serving and drink it all, needing it to warm me up. Needing it to soften body and mind. I pour another and carry the bottle back to the couch to re-read the letter yet again as rain begins to ping against the floor-to-ceiling window. I switch on a lamp as darkness falls and lay my head on the arm of the sofa to watch the storm until my eyelids grow too heavy, and I let myself drift to sleep.

13

BASTIAN