You work yourself to exhaustion. You never complain. You never ask for anything. When I got promoted last month and brought home champagne, you cried because you were happy for me, not because you wanted something for yourself. Just happy for me.
I don’t know how I got this lucky.
If I die, promise me you won’t let anyone take advantage of you. You’re stronger than you think. Stronger than I’ll ever be.
D.
My hand shook.
I read it three times.
The other letters were similar. Written after long business trips. Once from a hospital bed after his appendectomy in 1998. All saying the same thing in different words.
You deserve more. I’m sorry I don’t say it enough.
He had known. Even then, he had known I would need proof.
I folded the letters carefully and put them back in the envelope. Then I called Mr. Brennan.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Ready for what?”
“To move forward.”
The next morning I took the bus to Manhattan Trust and transferred five million dollars into a new personal account.
The banker, a woman named Caroline with perfect nails and a polite smile, did not blink at the amount.
