The room buzzed with excitement as my relatives whispered about their new wealth. They barely noticed me when the lawyer handed me the envelope.
He placed it gently in my hands and said quietly, “Your mother loved you more than anyone.”
Inside was a single key and a slip of paper with an address. No explanation. No note. Just that.
I left the office numb. My brother called after me, smirking, “Guess she didn’t think much of you after all.”
But somehow, I knew there was more to it.
The Cottage on the Hill
The address led me to the outskirts of town — a winding road lined with wildflowers and whispering trees. At the end stood a small stone cottage, aged but welcoming, with ivy climbing the walls and curtains fluttering softly through open windows.
When I unlocked the door, a familiar scent greeted me — lavender, my mother’s favorite.
The cottage was spotless, lovingly arranged. On the wooden table sat a sealed letter, folded neatly beside a pot of blooming violets. My hands trembled as I opened it.
The Letter
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