Inside sat a thick, cream-colored envelope.

It was sealed with red wax.

On the front, my mother’s elegant, flowing handwriting read: *For Claire, when the time comes.*

I sat back on my heels, holding the envelope in both hands.

The wax seal bore her initials: *E.H.*

Eleanor Hart.

My fingers traced the raised letters, tears stinging my eyes.

I broke the seal carefully, trying not to tear the paper.

Inside was a multi-page letter written on her personal stationery.

The date at the top was from three years ago, shortly before her illness took her.

I began to read, her voice echoing in my mind with every word.

*My dearest Claire,* the letter began.

*If you are reading this, it means the doubts I have harbored have finally turned into a reality you must face.*

I swallowed hard, the memory of Graham’s cold eyes fresh in my mind.

*I have watched Graham closely over the last two years,* she wrote.

*He believes he is clever, but he lacks the patience required for true deception.*

I turned the page, my hands cold as I read on.