An orphan inherited only a pitiful letter But when she read it, the laughter of her husband and his mistress turned to panic!
Orphan Emily sat in the chilly, tomb-like office of the solicitor, hunched under the weight of hostile glares. On either side of herlike foxes circling preysat Gregory, her husband, and his mistress, Lydia. He wore a smug grin, as if victory was already his; she let out a venomous chuckle, relishing the thought of tearing into her rival. The air hung thick, heavy with unspoken malice. The solicitora stern, parchment-skinned man with a face like carved stoneread aloud the will of Aunt Margaret, the only person who had ever shown Emily kindness.
and all the estate, including the cottage, land, and savings, passes to Gregory Whitmore, he declared, oblivious to Lydias barely stifled snicker. Her eyes gleamed with triumph, and her crimson lips curled into a smirk. Emily felt something inside her shatter.
Gregory burst into laughter, the sound echoing mockingly. Lydia joined in, her voice sharp as glass. Emily sat frozen, fists clenched, unable to look up. After years of misery and neglect, was this all she deserveda measly letter? Not a roof over her head, not a penny to her name, just a scrap of paper? It wasnt a giftit was fates cruel joke.
The envelope the solicitor handed her felt like lead. She took it without a word and left under a hail of Lydias taunts:
A letter! At least itll make good kindling!
Emily returned to her cramped flat, the walls damp with mildew, the window overlooking a barren courtyard. For hours, she stared at the yellowed envelope, fingers trembling. Aunt Margaret had been her only light, the one who saw her as more than a burden. With a deep breath, she tore it open.
My dearest Em, the letter began, If youre reading this, Im gone, and the world has been cruel once more. Forgive me for failing you. But know thiseverything I had, I hid for you. Gregory and that viress Lydia will get only whats visible. In the old oak by the brook where we read together, theres a hollow. Find it. Your freedom lies 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 by lamplight. This wasnt the end. It was a beginning.
At dawn, she slipped out unnoticed. Gregory and Lydia, drunk on their false victory, didnt spare her a thought. With hope fluttering in her chest, Emily walked toward her future.
Beneath moss and years of neglect, she found a tin box. Insidedeeds to a cottage in Cornwall, a bank account in her name, bundles of letters filled with love and wisdom, and a locket engraved: You are braver than you know.
Those words were her lifeline. She packed her few belongings and left that very night. Gregory and Lydia, too wrapped up in their greed, didnt notice until it was too late. The cottage theyd inherited was crumbling, the land mortgaged, the savings long spent.
Emily started anew. In a cosy seaside cottage, where seagulls cried and waves lapped at the shore, she found peace. She read Aunt Margarets letters, studied, worked, and breathed freely. Each evening, watching the sunset, she whispered, Thank you, Aunt Margaret. Meanwhile, Gregory and Lydia turned on each other, cursing their worthless prize.
The letter wasnt just paperit was the key to the life Emily deserved. She took the name Margaret in her aunts honour and began afresh. Working at the village library became her joysorting books, teaching children to read, studying old textbooks shed found. The locket was her talisman, a reminder of her strength.
But the past didnt release her easily. Months later, Gregory appeared at her door, his once-smug face now haggard. Lydia had abandoned him when the inheritance proved worthless. Hearing rumours of Emilys new life, he came seething.
You! he snarled, pounding the door. You think you can steal whats mine? Wheres Margarets money? I know she hid it!
Emily stood firm, years of hardship hardening her resolve.
You got what you deserved, Gregory, she said calmly. Aunt knew exactly who you were. Leave.
He moved closer, but her steady gaze unnerved him. Or perhaps it was the burly fisherman, Thomas, who happened by and paused at the commotion. Gregory spat curses and stormed off, vowing revenge.
Emily wasnt afraid. Gregory was a hollow man, eaten alive by greed. Still, she wrote to the solicitor to confirm the wills legality. The reply was swift: everything was ironclad. Aunt Margaret had foreseen it alleven Gregorys desperation.
Time passed. Emily settled into village life. She grew close to Thomas, a kind, no-nonsense man who taught her to fish, and she shared books with him. One day, while clearing the attic, she found another letter from Aunt Margaret, tucked inside an old pillow. It read: Em, if life weighs heavy, rememberyoure not alone. Seek those who see your heart. They are your true fortune.
Those words guided her. Emily began helping othersorphans, the elderly, anyone in need. She started free reading clubs at the library for village children. The community flourished, and people grew fond of quiet Margaret by the sea.
Gregory never returned. Gossip said he drank himself into ruin trying to sell the mortgaged land. Lydia, they claimed, ran off with a tradesman but found no joy. Emily, sipping tea by her window, watched the sunset and smiled. Aunt Margarets letter had been more than an inheritanceit was a map to a life worth living. And every day, she proved she was braver than anyone had imagined.
