Inside was a sealed envelope, my name written in Michael’s familiar blocky handwriting. Beneath it lay a manila folder with legal paperwork, letters, and a single journal page.
I sat on the cold floor and opened the envelope.
“Clover,
If you’re reading this, it means Frank kept his promise. I asked him not to tell you until I was gone. I didn’t want you carrying this while you still had me. Frank used to work with me, and I always said he’d outlast us all…
I never lied to you, kiddo. But I didn’t tell you everything.
Your mom died in a car accident, yes—but she wasn’t just out running errands. She was driving to meet me. We were going to sign the guardianship paperwork that day, to make it official.
But she panicked.
And your Aunt Sammie had threatened court. She said blood mattered more than love, that I wasn’t fit to raise you.
Your mom didn’t want a battle. She was scared of losing you. I told her to wait, to let the storm pass. But she got in the car anyway.
I should’ve stopped her.
After the crash, Sammie tried again. She sent letters, hired a lawyer, said I had no claim to you. But I had the paperwork. I had this letter from Carina—you’ll see it.
‘If anything happens, don’t let them take her.’
I kept you safe, Clover. Not because the law gave me the right, but because your mom trusted me to. And because I loved you more than anything.
I didn’t want you growing up feeling like someone’s contested property. You were never a case file.
You were my daughter.
But I want you to be weary of Sammie. She’s not as sweet as she wants you to believe.
I hope you understand why I stayed quiet.
