DEBORAH'S POV
The wine suddenly tasted sour in my mouth. I set the letter down without opening it. "She left. She chose to leave."
"She chose to survive. Just like you're going to have to choose."
Victoria picked up another letter from the box. This one was thicker, like it had photos inside.
"She wrote about you constantly. Asked about you. Begged my mother when she was still alive and then me to send pictures, updates, anything I could manage without your father finding out."
"If she cared so much, why didn't she take me with her?"
"Because uncle would have hunted her down and killed her. And probably you too, just to make a point."
The room felt like it was spinning. Not from the wine, but from the weight of what Victoria was telling me. All these years, I'd believed my mother had simply walked away. That she'd chosen her freedom over her daughter.
