“I don’t know,” he said, his breath shallow. “I thought it was… a protective measure, something she… she wanted to keep hidden.”
He slipped the album closed, his fingers trembling, and reached into his jacket.
My gaze followed his hand to a sealed envelope, its wax seal emblazoned with an unfamiliar crest.
He held it up, the paper catching the dim light, and for a heartbeat the room seemed to hold its breath.
“Emily, this is what she asked me to give you if… if she couldn’t speak for herself,” he whispered, the words hanging heavy in the stale air.
I stared at the envelope, the unknown contents pressing against my curiosity like a storm waiting to break.
Confrontation in the ICU
“Why did you make me your legal guardian before I was even born?” I whispered, hands trembling on the crisp sheet.
She turned her head, eyes glassy, the pale mask of medication making her features blur.
