Letters? Our mom had mailed us letters?

“She just had to be stubborn,” Brenda scoffed. “It was so easy to trick her into believing David was going to drain her bank accounts and take full custody during the divorce. David mentioned at the office once that she had a history of severe depression, so I warned her he was plotting to have her committed to a psych ward.”

I clamped my hand over my mouth. Did she mean what I thought she meant? Had Brenda orchestrated my mother’s disappearance?

“Those text messages you helped me forge looked incredibly convincing. She ran, exactly like I knew she would, but the letters started showing up a year later.”

I felt like I was going to throw up.

But the only thing that mattered right now was finding those letters!

“Listen, honey, I gotta run,” Brenda said suddenly. “Yep, it’s Mother’s Day with my loyal stepdaughter. Wish me luck.”

I stared down at the flowers in my hands. Then I looked toward the kitchen doorway, watching Brenda’s shadow move across the tile as she hummed a little song.

Then I realized, with absolute ice in my veins, that this morning was not going to be the holiday she was expecting.

My knees were practically shaking, but I forced myself forward.

I walked right into the kitchen wearing the biggest, fakest smile I could muster.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Brenda!”

She spun around, startled. For a split second, her mask slipped, before snapping back into a warm, welcoming expression.

“Oh, sweetie! I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“The door was unlocked. I brought your favorites. From Emma and me.”

She snatched the bouquet right out of my hands.

“Where is Emma? She’s supposed to be here.”

“She’s working a double shift and couldn’t get coverage. She sends her love and promised she’ll make it up to you.”

“Well… alright. Have a seat. Your father will be back from the hardware store any minute, and the quiche is almost done.”

“Actually, can I use the restroom first?”

“Go right ahead, sweetie. You know where it is.”

I walked down the hallway at a casual pace, pretending my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs. I walked right past the bathroom door. I kept going.

Years ago, Brenda had declared the hall closet strictly off-limits. She claimed she kept her private keepsakes in there, but I had a gut feeling that was exactly where I’d find Mom’s letters.

I gently eased the closet door open.

It was stuffed with Brenda’s things — mostly old designer coats and expensive handbags.

But sitting right on the floor, a stack of three shoeboxes caught my eye.

My heart pounded as I dropped to my knees.

I pulled the lid off the top box.

It was absolutely crammed with envelopes addressed to Emma and me.

I picked one up. It was sealed tight, with a postmark from twelve years ago.

Another one. Sealed.

A third one, though this one had been sliced open. It was a birthday card.

Have a wonderful birthday, my beautiful girls! I pray I get to see you both again soon. Love, Mom.

A small sob escaped my throat before I could stop it.

“Harper? Sweetie, is everything okay down there?” Brenda called out.

“Yeah! Just give me a second!”

I dug faster. The postmark dates got closer to the present.

Then I found the holy grail — a paper envelope sitting near the top, bearing a brand new stamp.

Just nine days ago.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Harper?”

Brenda’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hardwood hallway.

I started stuffing the letters into my purse, into my jacket pockets, into my waistband—anywhere they would fit.

“Harper, what in the world are you—”

Brenda stopped dead in the closet doorway.

Her face cycled through three different expressions in a single second. Confusion. Realization. And then a look so cold it froze my blood.

“Put those back right now, or I will make sure your father never speaks to you or your sister for the rest of your lives.”

Every single childhood terror came crashing down on me at once.

I stared up at her, speechless, knowing her threat was entirely real, and knowing that if anyone could pull it off, it was her.

“I mean it.” She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “Your father is going to walk through that front door any second. Put those down, march in there and sit down for your quiche, and we will never, ever speak of this again. This is the absolute last chance I am giving you, Harper.”

Just then, the front door rattled unlocked.

Brenda exhaled. “Looks like your time is officially up.”

I panicked.

“Dad! Come in here, you need to see this—”

I was cut off because Brenda lunged forward and clamped her hand around my arm. Hard.

“Harper?” Dad called out, his boots thudding quickly across the living room floor.

“Last warning,” Brenda hissed. “Smile, Harper, or I swear to God I will kick you out of this family before the sun goes down.”

I looked down at her vice grip, then up into her eyes, and I realized the absolute truth: Brenda was terrified.

Dad stepped up right behind Brenda and stared at the two of us.

“Harper, what’s going on here? Those are Brenda’s private things,” he said.

“Thank God you’re home!” Brenda spun around and clung to my dad’s arm. “Harper has completely lost her mind! She started tearing through all my personal belongings, screaming these insane accusations—”

“I haven’t lost my mind!” I held up a massive handful of envelopes. “Dad. Look at the handwriting. These are letters from Mom. Brenda has been hiding them this entire time.”

The color drained from his face. “That’s Clara’s handwriting.”

“There are hundreds of them, Dad. Completely sealed. Addressed to Emma and me.”

“I can explain this—”

Dad turned to look her dead in the eye. “She vanished without a single word, without leaving a note… and you’ve been intercepting letters from her this entire time?”

“This one was delivered just last week.” I held up the newest envelope. “Brenda manipulated Mom. She brainwashed Mom into thinking you were going to file for a vicious divorce, bankrupt her, and lock her in a psych ward because of her depression. I heard her on the phone in the kitchen, Dad. Bragging about the whole thing.”

Dad’s jaw locked.

“Do you see? I told you she was delusional,” Brenda scrambled. “Yes, I kept the letters. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing for the girls! But all this psychotic rambling about me plotting to scare Clara away? That is just the babbling of a crazy kid!”

Dad slowly shook his head. “I never said a word to the girls about Clara’s battle with clinical depression.”

Brenda went ghost white.

“The only person I ever confided in about that was you, back when we worked together, right before Clara disappeared. My God, it’s all true, isn’t it?” Dad glared at Brenda, tears welling in his eyes. “Get out of my house, Brenda. Now.”

Brenda took a step back. She looked wildly between Dad and me, finally realizing she had lost completely.

“Fine, I’ll leave,” she spat. “But you’re going to regret this. All of you! I am the best thing that ever happened to this family.”

She spun on her heel and stormed out the front door.

Dad collapsed onto the hallway floor next to me. He took the newest envelope from my hands, his fingers shaking, and flipped it over.

“The return address is just two towns over in Springfield.” He looked right at me. “We need to go get Emma and leave. Right now.”

We drove straight to the diner where Emma worked. After a quick explanation, her manager let her clock out early.

We drove the rest of the way in total silence and finally pulled up to a modest house with a neatly trimmed front lawn.

I knocked on the front door. The woman who answered looked exactly like Emma and me, just older. She stared at us in pure shock for a second, before completely breaking down into sobs.

“My babies! Is it really you?”

I pulled her into a fierce hug. “It’s really us, Mom.”

And for the first time in fifteen years, I felt like I truly belonged.