Chapter 5: The missing letter
2124 Words
The Hart residence was quiet when they returned from the funeral.
The black iron gates opened slowly, and Marcus drove the SUV through the long driveway lined with perfect expensive flower beds. The mansion stood proudly in the distance.
To anyone passing by, it would have looked like a place filled with love and comfort.
To Emma, it felt empty.
She sat in the back seat with her small hands wrapped tightly around the cream-colored envelope the old man had given her at the church.
For My Emma.
She had read those three words over and over during the drive home. They were written in neat black ink, and somehow they made her feel as though her father was still close to her.
Maybe he had written the letter himself.
Maybe…
The thought stopped there.
Her father wasn’t coming back.
Her mother wasn’t coming back.
Neither was Ethan.
The realization hit her all over again, and she pressed the envelope against her chest as if it could somehow hold the broken pieces of her heart together.
Marcus parked the vehicle and stepped out first. A maid quickly appeared at the front door to greet them.
“Welcome home, ma’am.”
Victoria gave a tired smile and nodded.
“Please prepare dinner. Something simple.”
The maid glanced toward Emma, and her expression softened.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Emma.”
Emma lowered her eyes and whispered a quiet thank you.
She was beginning to hate those words.
I’m sorry for your loss.
Everyone kept saying them.
Teachers.
Doctors.
Neighbors.
Strangers.
But none of them could change what had happened.
None of them could bring her family back.
Victoria placed a gentle hand on Emma’s shoulder.
“You should go upstairs and rest, sweetheart. It’s been a long day.”
Emma nodded silently.
She climbed the wide staircase, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The guest room prepared for her was beautiful. The walls were painted a soft cream color. Fresh flowers had been placed on the bedside table, and her clothes had already been unpacked into the wardrobe.
Someone had even placed a stuffed rabbit on the bed.
Emma stared at it for a moment before looking away.
She didn’t want a new toy.
She wanted her old life back.
She closed the bedroom door behind her and walked slowly to the bed.
The envelope was still in her hands.
The old man’s words echoed in her ears.
“No matter what anyone tells you… trust your father’s instincts.”
She didn’t know what that meant.
But she knew one thing.
The envelope was important.
Very important.
Carefully, she climbed onto the bed and crossed her legs. She held the envelope in front of her and studied it.
The paper looked old.
Not ancient, but not new either.
It had been sealed carefully, almost as if whoever closed it wanted to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally open.
Emma slipped one finger beneath the flap.
Her heart began beating faster.
She was just about to pull it open when there was a knock at the door.
She gasped and quickly hid the envelope behind her back.
“Emma?” Victoria’s gentle voice called. “May I come in?”
Emma hesitated for a second.
Then she nodded, forgetting that her aunt couldn’t see her through the closed door.
“Yes.”
The door opened, and Victoria walked in carrying a silver tray with a glass of warm milk and two chocolate biscuits.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
Emma wasn’t.
The idea of eating made her stomach hurt.
But she didn’t want to be rude.
“Thank you.”
Victoria set the tray down and sat beside her on the bed.
For a few moments, she simply looked at Emma with sad eyes.
“You were very brave today.”
Emma looked down at the blanket.
“I miss them.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Victoria looked surprised.
Emma immediately felt guilty.
“I’m sorry.”
Her aunt reached out and stroked her hair.
“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re hurting.”
Her eyes drifted toward Emma’s hands.
Toward the corner of the cream-colored envelope peeking out from behind her back.
“So,” Victoria said softly, “you still have that little letter.”
Emma nodded.
“The man said it was for me.”
“I’m sure it is.”
Victoria smiled kindly.
“But maybe you should let me read it first. Sometimes grown-ups write things children don’t understand.”
Emma frowned.
“My daddy wrote it.”
Victoria’s smile faltered ever so slightly.
“Did the man tell you that?”
Emma thought about it.
No.
He hadn’t.
But the words on the front…
For My Emma.
It sounded like something her father would say.
She hugged the envelope closer.
“I want to read it myself.”
For the briefest moment, something flashed across Victoria’s face.
It was gone so quickly that Emma almost thought she had imagined it.
Then the warm smile returned.
“Of course, sweetheart. I only want to help.”
She stood up and picked up the tray.
“Drink your milk before it gets cold. I’ll check on you later.”
When she reached the door, she paused.
“And Emma?”
“Yes?”
“If you decide you don’t want the letter anymore, you can always give it to me for safekeeping.”
Emma nodded politely.
The moment the door closed, she got off the bed and quietly locked it.
She wasn’t sure why.
She had never locked a door before.
But something deep inside her told her to.
Downstairs, Victoria walked into the study and shut the door behind her.
Marcus was standing by the fireplace with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Well?” he asked.
Victoria folded her arms.
“She still has it.”
Marcus frowned.
“You didn’t take it?”
“There were servants everywhere.”
He let out an impatient sigh.
“She’s eight years old, Victoria. You could have told her it belonged to you.”
Victoria walked toward the window and looked out into the darkening garden.
“You didn’t see the old man who gave it to her.”
Marcus stiffened.
“What old man?”
She turned to face him.
“I’ve seen him before.”
“Where?”
“At Richard’s office. A few years ago.”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“You think he knows?”
“I don’t know what he knows,” Victoria replied. “But I know one thing.”
She lowered her voice.
“If Richard left Emma a letter… we cannot allow her to read it.”
Back upstairs, Emma sat cross-legged on the bed.
The room was silent.
She looked at the locked door.
Then back at the envelope.
Taking a deep breath, she carefully opened the seal.
The flap lifted without tearing.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
Just one.
Emma slowly pulled it out.
Her hands trembled.
She unfolded the page and looked at the neat handwriting.
It wasn’t childish.
It wasn’t messy.
It was elegant.
She had seen it before.
In birthday cards.
In little notes left on the refrigerator.
Her heart skipped.
It was her father’s handwriting.
Tears blurred her vision.
She wiped them away quickly and began reading.
My dearest Emma,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I prayed never would. I wish I could be beside you right now, telling you that everything will be all right. But if I cannot, then I need you to remember one thing…
Emma leaned closer.
A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the page.
She quickly wiped it away.
The next line read:
There are people around us who are not what they seem. If anything ever happens to me…
A loud crash of thunder shook the windows.
Emma jumped.
At the same moment, the lights in her room flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then everything went dark.
The entire house lost power.
Emma gasped.
She hated thunderstorms.
Ever since she was little, loud thunder made her want to hide under her mother’s blanket.
But her mother wasn’t here.
She climbed off the bed and walked toward the window.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
For one brief second, the gardens below lit up.
Emma froze.
Someone was standing outside.
A tall figure dressed in black.
Looking directly up at her window.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The lightning faded.
Darkness returned.
She blinked.
Another flash.
The figure was gone.
Emma stumbled backward.
Her heart raced so fast she thought it might burst.
She ran back to the bed and grabbed the letter.
She didn’t know why, but suddenly she didn’t want anyone to find it.
Not even Victoria.
Especially not Victoria.
She looked around the room, searching for a hiding place.
The wardrobe was too obvious.
The drawers were the first place anyone would look.
She pulled the pillow away.
Nothing.
Then she noticed a narrow gap between the wooden headboard and the wall.
It was just wide enough.
Emma folded the letter, slipped it back into the envelope, and carefully pushed it into the hidden space.
She checked to make sure it couldn’t be seen.
Then she climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over herself.
Eventually, exhausted from crying and fear, she fell asleep.
Near midnight, the mansion was silent.
The electricity had returned, but most of the lights remained off.
A bedroom door opened quietly.
Footsteps echoed softly down the upstairs hallway.
A shadow moved through the darkness.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The figure stopped outside Emma’s room.
The doorknob turned.
It didn’t open.
Locked.
The shadow remained still for several seconds.
Then, with surprising patience, a thin metal object slid into the lock.
A soft click followed.
The door opened.
Emma slept soundly, hugging her teddy bear close to her chest.
The shadow entered without making a sound.
A small flashlight flickered on.
Its beam moved across the room.
The bedside table.
The wardrobe.
The drawers.
The suitcase.
Nothing.
The figure searched carefully, trying not to disturb anything.
Emma shifted in her sleep.
The shadow froze.
She mumbled softly, then turned over and continued sleeping.
The search resumed.
The mattress was lifted.
The curtains were pulled aside.
The shelves were checked.
Still nothing.
Then the flashlight beam landed on the headboard.
The figure paused.
Slowly, a hand reached into the narrow gap between the wood and the wall.
For a second, there was nothing.
Then the fingers touched paper.
The envelope.
The shadow pulled it out.
The words on the front became visible in the light.
For My Emma.
The figure stared at it for a moment.
Then, without opening it, slipped it into a jacket pocket.
A low voice whispered into the darkness.
“It should have been destroyed years ago.”
The flashlight went out.
The shadow crossed the room and slipped outside, locking the door behind them.
Emma never woke up.
The next morning, sunlight poured through the curtains.
Birds chirped in the gardens.
For the first time in days, Emma woke up without immediately thinking about the accident.
She remembered the letter.
She smiled sadly.
Maybe reading the rest of it would make her feel closer to her father.
She jumped out of bed and hurried to the headboard.
She reached into the gap.
Nothing.
She frowned and reached farther.
Still nothing.
Her smile faded.
She moved the pillow.
Then the blanket.
Then she pulled the bed away from the wall.
Dust covered the floor beneath it.
But the envelope was gone.
Emma searched the entire room.
Under the bed.
Inside the wardrobe.
In every drawer.
She even checked the wastebasket.
Nothing.
The letter had disappeared.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“No…”
She looked toward the bedroom door.
Then she remembered.
The footsteps.
The doorknob moving.
The strange figure in the garden.
Her breathing quickened.
Someone had been in her room.
Someone had taken the letter.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
At that exact moment, laughter floated up from downstairs.
Victoria’s voice.
Then Marcus’s.
Emma walked slowly toward the bedroom door.
She rested her hand on the knob.
She didn’t know why.
She had no proof.
No evidence.
Just a feeling.
A strange, frightening feeling she couldn’t explain.
But for the first time since coming to live with her aunt and uncle…
Emma wondered if the people who had promised to protect her were hiding something.
And somewhere downstairs, locked away inside a study drawer, the stolen envelope lay unopened.
Waiting.
- Writer
