PART 12 — THE UNKNOWN LETTER ON THE MAT
The house felt strangely quiet after everything that had happened. Willem was still in the hospital, stable but weakened, and Lucas was briefly at his own temporary apartment to pick up a few things. I was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of lukewarm coffee when I heard the hallway floorboards creak through the mail slot.
Something fell onto the mat.
Normally, only bills or advertising flyers arrived there. But this envelope was different. Thick, handwritten with heavy black ink, and—what frightened me the most—addressed to my own name in the exact same handwriting as the documents from the dune house.
Only... that wasn't Willem's handwriting.
With trembling fingers I stood up, walked into the hallway, and picked the envelope up from the mat. There was no return address on the back. Only a postmark from a village twenty kilometers away, dated last night.
I walked back to the kitchen table, sat down, and cut open the envelope with a small knife. A single sheet of paper slid out, along with an old, yellowed black-and-white photograph.
I picked up the photo first. My breath caught in my throat.
It was a photo of myself sitting on a park bench thirty years ago. Not taken by Willem, because I was looking into the camera with a smile, as if greeted by someone I knew. But I couldn't remember who had been standing in front of me back then.
Afterward, I looked at the letter. The words were short, powerful, and icy:
"Don't think for a second it's over, Clara. Willem may have tried to salvage things, but there is a secret he never dared tell you about that evening when Lucas left. Ask him the real reason why Lucas had to disappear. It wasn't just about debt... It had to do with you."
The ground seemed to drop out from under my feet. The cup of coffee on the table suddenly tasted bitter.
What did this person mean? What secret had Willem kept until his deathbed? Wasn't it about money? Was it... about me?
The living room door opened. Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway.
"Mom? Are you there?" Lucas's voice rang out, warm and familiar, as he hung his jacket over the chair.
I stared at the letter in my hand, the photo on the table, and felt fear rise within me. Did I have to tell him? Or would this new truth tear us apart forever after all?
