Chapter 8
The trial lasted weeks.
Every lie unraveled. Every crime exposed.
The payments. The kidnapping. The accident. The threats.
He was found guilty on all charges. Sentenced to prison for life.
Eleanor held my hand as we walked out of the courthouse.
"It’s over," she said. "Truly over."
But something still troubled me.
"There was another name," I said. "A partner. Someone who helped him. Who was it?"
Eleanor went quiet.
She led me home. To the study. And pulled out an old, locked box.
Inside lay letters. Handwritten. In her own husband’s handwriting.
"Your father knew," she said quietly. "He knew his own brother was involved. But he couldn’t prove it. And then... he found out something worse."
She showed me the last letter.
The partner. The one who had helped my uncle.
It was Eleanor’s own sister. My aunt.
I sank into a chair.
"She knew?"
"From the very beginning," Eleanor said. "She helped plan it. She watched me grieve. And she said nothing."
My heart ached.
"Is she still..."
"She’s gone," Eleanor said. "She died three years ago. Without ever telling me the truth."
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I looked at the star on my wrist.
"They all thought they could erase me," I said. "But this mark... it brought me back. And it brought the truth with me."
