An orphan inherited just a sad little letter But when she read it, the smirks of her husband and his mistress turned to sheer panic!
Orphan Emily sat in the chilly, tomb-like office of the solicitor, hunched under the weight of icy glares. On either side of herlike foxes circling preysat her husband, Edward, and his mistress, Lydia. He wore a smug grin, like hed already won; she let out a spiteful giggle, as if relishing the thought of tearing Emily apart. The air was thick, heavy with bitterness. The solicitora stiff, papery old man with a face like carved stoneread aloud the will of Aunt Margaret, the only person whod ever shown Emily real kindness.
and all the property, including the cottage, land, and savings, passes to Edward Whitmore, he announced, oblivious as Lydia stifled a triumphant sneer. Her eyes gleamed with malice, her crimson lips curling. Emily felt something inside her shatter.
Edward burst into laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls like a cruel joke. Lydia joined in, her voice sharp as broken glass. Emily clenched her fists, staring at her lap. After years of misery, was this all she gotjust a letter? Not a penny, not a roof over her head, just a scrap of paper? It wasnt a giftit was fate spitting in her face.
The envelope the solicitor handed her felt like lead. She took it silently and walked out under Lydias jeers:
A letter! Well, at least itll make good kindling!
Emily trudged home like she was heading to the gallows. In her damp little flat, where the walls smelled of mildew and the window overlooked a grimy alley, she sat for ages clutching the yellowed envelope. Her hands shook. Aunt Margaret had been the only one who saw her as more than a burden. With a deep breath, she tore it open.
My darling Em, the letter began, If youre reading this, Im gone, and the worlds been cruel again. Forgive me for not protecting you better. But know thiseverything I had, I hid for you. Edward and that viper Lydia only get whats plain to see. In the old oak by the river where we used to read, theres a hiding spot. Find it. Your freedoms there.
Emilys heart raced like a trapped sparrow. Memories rushed backthe towering oak, the hollow where theyd tucked away their favourite books, Aunt Margarets voice reading to her at night. This wasnt the end. It was a start.
At dawn, before the village stirred, Emily slipped out. Edward and Lydia, drunk on their hollow victory, didnt notice her leave. With shaky hope, she walked toward the river.
Beneath moss and years of neglect, she found a tin box in the oaks hollow. Insidedeeds to a little cottage in Cornwall, a bank account in her name, bundles of letters from Aunt Margaret full of love and wisdom, and a locket engraved with: Youre braver than you know.
Those words were a lifeline. She went home, packed her meagre things, and left that night. Edward and Lydia, too busy gloating, didnt even notice. By the time they didit was too late. The cottage theyd inherited was crumbling, the land mortgaged, the savings long gone.
Emily started anew. In a cosy seaside cottage, where seagulls cried and waves crashed, she found peace. She read Aunt Margarets letters, studied, worked, and breathed freely for the first time. Every sunset, she whispered, Thank you, Aunt Margaret. Meanwhile, Edward and Lydia tore each other apart over their worthless prize.
The letter wasnt just paperit was the key to the life she deserved. She took the name Margaret in her aunts honour and began again. Working at the village library became her joysorting books, helping children read, studying old textbooks shed found. The locket was her talisman, proof she wasnt broken.
But the past didnt vanish. Months later, Edward turned up. His posh suit was worn, his smirk replaced with a snarl. Lydia had left when she realised their fortune was debt. Hearing gossip that Emily lived nearby, he stormed to her door, raging.
You! he shouted, pounding the wood. Think you can steal whats mine? Wheres Margarets money? I know she hid it!
Emily stood firm, years of hardship hardening her. You got what you deserved, Edward, she said coolly. Aunt knew who you were. Leave.
He stepped closer, but her calm unnerved him. Or maybe it was the burly fisherman, Tom, passing by just then. Edward cursed and left, vowing to return.
Emily wasnt scared. Edward was all bluster, hollowed out by greed. Still, she wrote the solicitor to double-check the will. The reply came fasteverything was airtight. Aunt Margaret had seen it all coming.
Time passed. Emily settled in, befriending Tom. He taught her to fish; she lent him books. One day, clearing the attic, she found another letter stitched into an old cushion: Em, if life weighs heavy, rememberyoure never alone. Find those who see your heart. Theyre your true riches.
Those words guided her. Emily began helping othersorphans, the elderly, anyone needing kindness. She ran free reading classes at the library. The village warmed to quiet Margaret by the sea.
Edward never came back. Rumor said he drank himself into oblivion, trying to sell the mortgaged land. Lydia ran off with some trader but found no happiness. Emily, sipping tea by her window, watched the sunset and smiled. Aunts letter had been more than moneyit was a map to a life that mattered. And every day, she proved she was braver than anyone knew.
