Grandfather’s.
He slowly picked it up. “There was a letter in here,” he murmured, more to himself than to the others. “He wrote me a farewell letter before he died.”
Helen clasped a hand to her mouth. “Richard… did you take it?”
Richard didn’t answer.
That silence told Alex everything.
He steadied his voice. “This ends now. Whatever is missing, you’re going to return it. And if you destroyed it… you’ll answer for that in court.”
Richard backed away, his face paling. “You think you can threaten me and walk back into our lives?”
“No,” Alex said softly. “I think Grandfather already made that decision for you.”
Helen sank onto the sofa, quietly sobbing—not from fear, but from years of truth finally breaking open.
And as Alex stood there, holding the torn envelope, he knew this was no longer just about a house.
It was about reclaiming a history that someone had tried to erase.
