The Rose He Killed novel Chapter 234

Chapter 210: The Envelope

Bella POV

The second envelope arrived the same week as Sebastien’s reply. The building management company sent it from my old office address. They added a note to apologize for the delay.

The letter had been lost in their files for a month. Before that, a law office in London had been trying to find me for years.

The envelope was yellow at the edges and felt soft, the way old paper does. My name was written on the front in handwriting I did not know: Isabella Elaine Hart. I never knew I had a middle name. Margaret had dropped it before my first birthday.

The postmark was from Geneva, Switzerland, from years ago.

I sat down at the kitchen table and did not even take off my coat.

Inside the envelope were three things.

The first was a photograph of a young woman at an outdoor party. The camera showed only her. She was laughing with a wine glass in her hand, her head thrown back.

She looked completely happy and free. She wore a yellow dress and her dark hair was loose in the sun.

She had my exact amber eyes. My exact face and mouth.

On the back, old writing said: Elaine Voss. Geneva, 1994

It was a year before I was born. I looked at the picture for a long time. I had never seen my own face look so free from worry. She looked like someone who did not know the world was going to hurt her yet.

The second thing was a smaller passport picture. It was a man in his thirties with dark eyes and a serious face. On the back, Elaine had written: S. Twelve days before he left. I looked at his jaw and felt something move in my chest.

The third thing was a note on a law firm paper. The handwriting started neat but grew messy and tight at the bottom, as if she was losing her strength.

If you are reading this, something has happened to me.

I am writing this while I still can because I want Isabella to know she was wanted before she was born. I decided to have her the moment I knew about her, before I had any plan at all. She was wanted from the very first second.

I have asked this law firm to make sure this letter reaches her when she is old enough. Margaret will take her. I know Margaret. She will do it the right way, even if she is cold. But I do not want Isabella to grow up without knowing the truth.

She should know her father’s name. He does not know about her. It was not his choice to leave. Bad luck took him away before I could tell him, and by the time I knew what happened, it was too late. He is a good man. If she ever wants to find him, she should know he was kind and honest. He loved me truly.

Chapter 710 The Envelope

His name is SEBASTIEN MARCHETTI. LYON, FRANCE.

Claim

Please make sure she knows she was wanted. Please make sure she knows she was loved before she was even one day old.

The note ended there without a signature. It seemed like she had run out of time or strength.

I sat at the kitchen table in my coat. I held the note and did not cry. The sadness was too deep for tears. This letter had been following me for years. It had followed me through every house I ever lived in, through London, Singapore, and my old office, chasing the woman had become.

She had written it while she was sick. She wrote it carefully for the baby she had held for only six months while her heart was failing. She trusted a law firm to find me.

It took the law firm years, but they found me anyway.

The house was finally quiet. Grace had gone to bed at seven, and Tom had finally gone to sleep at eight-thirty. I was still sitting at the kitchen table at eleven o’clock at night. The photograph of Elaine Voss was still in my hands. The kitchen was dark except for the small light over the stove, and the house felt completely still. Then, I heard Caleb’s footsteps on the stairs.

My mind went back to the loud, sweet chaos of the evening. Before the quiet settled in, the kitchen had been filled with the voices of our children.

It started right after dinner. Caleb had set up the board game on the table, and Tom had taken his place with total focus. Grace sat on the floor nearby, playing with a plastic cup.

“Dad, you can’t put your blue piece there,” Tom had said, pointing a finger at the board. His eyebrows were pulled together in deep concentration. “That is not the rule.”

Caleb had looked down at the board, trying to hide his/smile. “Are you sure, Tom? I thought if I rolled a five, I could move to the red square.”

“No!” Tom said, his voice rising with passion. “The red square is only for the green pieces. You have the blue pieces. You have to go backward two spaces. Right, Mom?”

I had looked up from my tea, amused. “Don’t look at me, Tom. Your dad is the one playing.”

“He is playing it wrong,” Tom declared. He stood up on his chair to get a better view of the board. “You are breaking the game, Dad.”

From the floor, Grace had dropped her plastic cup. It made a loud clattering sound. “Ba!” she shouted, pointing at the board. She didn’t know what the game was, but she wanted to be included. “Ma-ma, ba!”

“See? Grace knows too,” Tom said, using his sister to win his argument. “She says you have to move back.”

“I don’t think Grace is talking about the game, Tom,” Caleb said gently. He reached down and picked Grace up, setting her on his knee. “Are you, Grace? Are you helping Tom win?”

Grace just reached out her small hand and tried to grab a handful of the shiny game pieces. “No, no, sweetie,” I said, leaning over to gently move her hand away. “Those are too small for you.”

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