“They were supposed to be given to you on your twelfth birthday,” Alma said softly. “But Bernarda burned most of them. I managed to save these.”
My hands trembled as I opened the first letter.
It was my mother’s voice, clear as if she were sitting beside me:
“My dearest Elias, If you are reading this, then I am gone and Bernarda has shown her true face. Your father is weak. He will choose peace over justice. But you must know the truth…”
The letters told a story I was never meant to hear.
Bernarda was not just my stepmother.
She had been my father’s mistress while my mother was still alive. When my mother got sick, Bernarda slowly poisoned her — using herbs she bought from a traveling healer. She wanted the house, the small piece of land, and especially the gold my grandfather had hidden before he died.
My mother had discovered it.
And Bernarda had killed her for it.
Tears fell onto the yellowed paper.
Alma placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Your mother asked me to watch over you. I was her closest friend. I’ve been waiting in these woods for four years.”
I looked up at her, voice breaking. “What do we do now?”
Alma’s eyes hardened. “We wait until you are strong enough. Then we go back. Not to beg. Not to cry. We go back with proof.”
She opened the bottom of the chest and took out the final piece — my mother’s old diary, wrapped in oilcloth. Inside were detailed notes about the poison, dates, and even the name of the healer Bernarda had paid.
Bernarda thought she had buried us in the forest.
Instead, the forest had given us shelter, truth, and time.
One day soon, we would return to that cabin — the one that had thrown us out like dogs.
And when we did…
Bernarda would finally understand what it felt like to have everything taken away.
