Annie stopped Dominic only inches before he ate his breakfast and warned him that Victoria had crushed pills into the butter.

My mother had written the letter eleven days before she died.

I read it standing in the kitchen where Victoria had prepared my breakfast.

Dominic,

I am not confused.

That sentence hurt first.

Because I had allowed people to make her believe she needed to defend her own mind.

The letter continued.

Victoria has been asking questions about your succession, about who controls the house if something happens to you before marriage, and about how quickly a fiancée becomes family once vows are exchanged.

I looked at Victoria.

She smiled bitterly.

“Your mother hated me.”

I ignored her.

The next paragraph was worse.

Caleb has been coming through the service entrance when you are away. They think I sleep in the afternoon. I do not.

Caleb closed his eyes.

I kept reading.

I heard them discussing a morning routine. They stopped when they saw me. Since then, Victoria insists on bringing my breakfast herself.

My hands tightened around the paper.

Grace was crying quietly now.

Then my mother wrote:

If I become ill, do not let them tell you I was simply old.

The room became very still.

Victoria looked at me.

“Evelyn was seventy-one.”

“She was not dying.”

“She had health problems.”

“You seem to know a lot about them.”

“I lived here.”

“No.”

My voice went colder.

“You studied here.”

That hit.

Caleb moved.

Two guards immediately stepped closer.

He stopped.

I read the final section.

There is something Victoria wants inside the old Carter vault, and I believe she thinks marriage is the easiest way to reach it. If I am not here when you read this, ask Grace about the funeral list.

I lowered the letter.

Grace went pale.

“What funeral list?”

She stared at Victoria.

Then looked at me.

“Your mother found one in Victoria’s desk.”

I felt the room narrow.

“Whose funeral?”

Grace’s eyes filled.

“Yours.”

Annie had told the truth.