Chapter 5: What the Letter Said
Maya didn't open it in the ballroom.
She held it against her chest, beside her sleeping baby, and looked at Vance.
"Not here," she said.
He nodded once.
"There's a room off the east corridor.
I'll take you."
Victoria moved to block them.
"Whatever is in that envelope is the property of a sealed legal estate and cannot be opened without—"
"It is a personal letter," Vance said.
"Written by a father.
To his daughter.
It was never part of the estate filing." He looked at her without warmth.
"Step aside, Mrs.
Sterling."
She didn't move.
Edward put his hand on his mother's shoulder and gently, firmly, moved her out of the way himself.
Victoria looked at her son's hand as though she didn't recognize it.
The room that Vance led Maya to was small — a private dining room with the lights still low from an earlier setup.
A single table.
Six chairs.
A window that looked out over the city.
Edward followed them in.
He stood near the door and didn't speak.
Maya sat down.
She set the baby carefully across her lap.
Then she looked at the envelope for a long moment before she broke the seal.
The letter inside was two pages, handwritten, in a steady and precise hand.
She read it silently.
Vance stood by the window.
Edward didn't move from the door.
When she finished the first page, her hand was shaking.
Not from fear.
From something she didn't have a word for yet.
She turned to the second page.
When she finished, she folded the letter carefully along its original creases and held it in both hands.
"He knew," she said.
"He knew the operation was dangerous.
He wrote this before they left." She looked up at Vance.
"He said if anything happened, I should know that I was loved before I knew what love was.
That I was wanted before I knew what wanting meant." Her voice was steady but only just.
"He said the medal was his father's.
That it had come home from every war it had ever seen.
That it would come home again."
Vance's jaw moved.
He looked out the window.
"He was right," he said.
"It did."
Edward crossed the room and crouched down in front of Maya so his eyes were level with hers.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I should have stepped forward in that room.
I should have stood beside you the moment she opened her mouth.
I have been afraid of her for my entire life and I let that fear cost you something it should never have cost you." He didn't look away.
"I'm sorry."
Maya looked at him for a long time.
"You moved her out of the way," she said finally.
"That's not enough."
"No," she agreed.
"It isn't.
But it's where you start."
He nodded.
He didn't argue.
The baby stirred and made a small sound, and Edward reached out instinctively and put one finger against the tiny curled fist.
The baby's fingers closed around it without waking.
They stayed like that for a moment.
Then Vance turned from the window.
"I need to make some calls," he said.
"The Department of Defense will want to move quickly once I confirm identification.
There will be a formal process — DNA verification, estate review, legal transfer." He looked at Maya.
"It will take time.
But it will happen."
"What about Victoria?" Edward asked.
Vance picked up his phone from the table.
"The suppression filing alone carries significant legal exposure," he said.
"The firm's management of the trust while concealing a known heir is a separate matter.
The Department has attorneys who handle exactly this kind of case." He paused at the door.
"Your mother should call her own attorney.
Not the firm's.
Her own."
He left them alone.
Edward stood up slowly and sat in the chair across from Maya.
The city glittered through the window behind him.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
Maya looked down at her baby.
At the letter in her hands.
At the medal, which Vance had placed on the table before he left, its worn silver surface catching the low light.
"I want to go home," she said.
"Our home.
Tonight."
"Okay."
"And tomorrow," she said, "I want to know everything."
Edward's phone buzzed on the table between them.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
He turned the phone so Maya could see it.
It was a message from his mother's personal number.
May you like
Four words.
*This isn't over yet.*
