I pressed my hand to my chest. —A foundation?

—Robert named you President for Life.

I let out a broken, hollow laugh. —I barely finished high school.

—Robert said you successfully managed a household, a chronic illness, and an ungrateful family for forty-six years. He said that was a thousand times harder than running any corporate office.

That was when I finally wept. Not gracefully. Not quietly. I sobbed with my face buried in my hands, the way older women cry when they no longer have to pretend to be strong just so everyone else can sleep peacefully at night.

Moses waited patiently. When I finally caught my breath, he gently pushed the letter toward me. —He requested that you read this here.

I tore the envelope open with trembling fingers. Robert’s handwriting was shaky, but completely recognizable.

“Tere: If you are reading this, it means our children did exactly what I feared they would do. They mocked the envelope. They thought I was casting you out with nothing. Forgive me for letting that moment hurt you. I needed you to come down here without triggering a single shred of suspicion from them. Anything I left you in Miami, they would have tied up in aggressive legal battles to strip away from you. What I left you here is ironclad and completely protected.”

I clutched the paper tight.

“Thaddeus was my brother. The only one who taught me that blood means absolutely nothing if there is no loyalty. You were my loyalty, Tere. You were my sanctuary when my own body stopped obeying me. I am not leaving you a fortune just so you can rest. I am leaving you a place where no one will ever look at you like an inconvenience or a burden.”

My mouth trembled as I read on.

“If you want to go back to Florida, go back. If you want to stay, stay. But never return to ask them for permission again. You have already paid far too high a price just for loving them.”

The very last line was almost illegible, smudged by time.

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