PART 6 – MY MOTHER'S TRUE WILL
Outside on the street, it was still raining, but the fresh air smelled of liberation. My heart was beating in my chest, not from fear, but from a deep and liberating relief. I had held my head up high. For the first time in years, I was not standing in the shadow of my children's expectations, but in the light of the truth my mother had left me as an inheritance.
But the day was not over yet. There was one last thing I had to do. In the yellow envelope, there was not only the warning about my children's lies, but also a reference to an official document. A document my mother had drawn up with another notary, somewhere in the heart of the city. I got into the car, started the engine, and drove through the wet streets toward the address written on the back of the letter: Notary Office De Vries & Partners.
Along the way, a thousand thoughts flooded my mind. What else had my mother hidden? If the house was not meant to be sold to that nominee, who had it been left to? And why had she chosen to reveal it only after her death and after the confrontation with my children? When I arrived at the grand office, I was shown in immediately by a polite elderly secretary who seemed to be expecting me.
“Mrs. De Jong? Please, come in. Notary De Vries is already waiting for you,” she said with a warm smile. I sat down in the office of a man with gentle eyes and a weathered face. Notary De Vries took off his glasses and turned to me. “Your mother, Mrs. Clara de Jong, was a remarkable woman,” he began gently. “She came here exactly three years ago, shortly after her health began to decline.
She knew her grandchildren would try to manipulate her as soon as she was no longer here.” He slid a large document forward. On the cover, written in bold letters, was: LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. “Your mother did not leave the house to you, and certainly not to Daniel or Sofia,” the notary said calmly. I caught my breath. “Then to whom?” “To a foundation for young single mothers who, just like you in your time, had to rebuild everything from nothing,” the notary replied.
“But she had a very special clause inserted.” I looked at him inquisitively. “What clause?” “The house can never be sold,” the notary explained. “It must remain a refuge for women who find themselves at a crossroads in their lives. And in the will it states that you, and only you, have the full right to manage this house and live in it for as long as you wish.” I felt a wave of emotion surge through my body.
My mother had not only shed light on the truth; she had also given me a purpose. A reason never again to look back at the past, but to start fresh. But just when I thought I knew everything, Notary De Vries pulled another small sealed letter from a drawer and set it down in front of me. “This one is for you personally. Your mother said you could read it only after seeing the will.” I took the letter with trembling hands and broke the seal.
