They just accepted Diane’s version of me. They let her erase the real Angela and replace me with a villain in their minds.
I wasn’t the forgotten daughter.
I was the deliberately destroyed daughter.
And my own sister had done it with a smile on her face.
The grief hit me first. Then the anger. A deep, burning anger that started in my stomach and spread through my whole body.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run upstairs and shake my parents awake and force them to read every word of this letter. But I knew that wouldn’t work. Diane had spent a decade building her lies. She would find a way to explain this away, too. She would say Grandpa was confused, that his mind was going, that I had somehow manipulated him into writing this.
I needed to be smarter than that.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands. I photographed every page of the letter, front and back, making sure the images were clear and readable. Then I opened my email and composed a message to Mr. Harrison, Grandpa’s lawyer.
I found this letter tonight hidden in my grandfather’s belongings, I wrote. I believe you need to see it before tomorrow’s reading. I also believe my sister may attempt to contest the will using false evidence. Please keep this confidential until the appropriate time. I will explain everything tomorrow.
I attached the photos and pressed send.
I didn’t know if it would matter. I didn’t know if anyone would believe me. But I refused to be erased anymore. If Diane wanted to destroy me, she was going to have to fight for it.
I was still sitting on the floor clutching the letter when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Diane appeared in the doorway wearing silk pajamas, her hair perfect even at this hour. She had come down for water, but when she saw me sitting there with tears streaming down my face and papers in my hands, she froze.
Her eyes locked onto the letter.
I watched her expression shift in the space of a heartbeat—surprise, then calculation, then cold, controlled fury.
“Give me that,” she said.
Her voice was calm, but I could hear the edge beneath it.
“No.”
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