Not a kind one.
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
Those words weren’t random.
“What do you mean?”
Victoria pulled out an envelope.
And slid it across the table.
“I mean… your story isn’t what you think it is.”
Emily didn’t touch it.
“Then explain it.”
Victoria held her gaze.
“My father didn’t come into your life by accident.”
Silence.
“That message…” she continued,
“wasn’t the first one.”
Emily felt her stomach tighten.
“What?”
“For weeks before that… someone had been texting that number.”
“Talking about your situation. Asking for help. Setting the stage.”
Emily’s heart started racing.
“That’s not possible.”
“It is,” Victoria said, nudging the envelope closer.
“Because that number… isn’t public. It’s a private line. Very few people have it.”
Emily slowly opened the envelope.
Printed messages.
Dates.
Conversations.
Words that looked… painfully familiar.
But they weren’t written by her.
The air felt heavier.
“Who did this?” she whispered.
Victoria didn’t hesitate.
“Your mother.”
The impact wasn’t physical.
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