"Yes, but you're safe now. I've arranged for someone to be outside your door at all times."
"Why are they doing this? We don't have anything valuable."
Victoria sat down in the other chair, considering how much truth a ten-year-old could handle. "They're looking for proof. Evidence that your mother and my late husband knew each other. Evidence that might support your claim to his legacy."
"But you already believe us. You gave us the ring back."
"I believe you. But there are other people, powerful people, who don't want anyone else to know the truth. They think if they can destroy all the evidence, they can make your story seem like a lie."
Amara was quiet for a moment, her young face too serious. "What did they take from the shelter?"
"An envelope your mother had hidden. It contained photographs and letters—things that proved she and Richard had a relationship."
"So now we can't prove anything."
"That's what they think, but they made a mistake." Victoria pulled out her phone and showed Amara the photograph she'd found in Richard's storage unit. "I have this. And I'm sure there are other records, other proof they haven't thought to destroy yet: bank records, employment files, witness statements from people who worked in the house back then."
Nia stirred in the bed, her eyes opening slowly. "You're still here."
"Where else would I be?"
"Living your life. Protecting your reputation. Isn't that what people like you do?" But there was less hostility in Nia's voice now, more exhaustion.
"'People like me,'" Victoria repeated. "You keep saying that, but I'm beginning to think I don't want to be people like me anymore."
Nia managed a weak smile. "Careful. That kind of thinking is dangerous."
"Speaking of dangerous," Victoria said, pulling up the security footage on her phone, "we need to talk about what was in that envelope."
Nia watched the video, her face going pale. "They're not giving up."
"No. Which means whatever you had must have been more than just sentimental evidence. What exactly did they take?"
Nia glanced at Amara, clearly debating how much to reveal. Finally, she said, "The ring receipt wasn't just a receipt. On the back, Richard had written a note—a promise that he'd find a way to make our relationship work, no matter what his family said. It was dated three months before he proposed to you."
Victoria absorbed this. "So it would prove he was in a serious relationship with you while courting me."
"More than that: it would prove he lied to you from the beginning. That your entire marriage was built on deception." Nia coughed, wincing. "But there was something else in that envelope, too. Something I never told you about."
"What?"
"A photograph. Not of Richard and me. Of my father, Victoria."
"Your father? What does he have to do with this?"
"Everything." Nia's voice was barely above a whisper. "My father was Marcus Wellington. He was one of the original investors in Hale Industries back when it was just starting out in the 1920s. He and Richard's grandfather were business partners."
The room seemed to tilt. Victoria gripped the arms of her chair. "That's not possible. Hale Industries was founded by Richard's grandfather alone. It's in every company history, every biography."
"That's the story they tell now, but it's not the truth." Nia struggled to sit up more, and Amara immediately moved to help her, adjusting the pillows. "My father put up half the initial capital. He had patents for manufacturing processes that made the whole business viable. But he was Black, and this was the 1920s. Having a Black partner wasn't considered acceptable for a company that wanted to work with certain clients. So they erased him. Worse than that, Richard's grandfather bought him out for a fraction of what his stake was worth. Told him it was that or be forced out entirely, lose everything. My father took the money because he had a family to support, but he never got over the betrayal. He died when I was twelve, bitter and broken."
Victoria felt like the ground was shifting beneath her feet.
"And the ring was my grandmother's—a gift from my grandfather to prove he'd made something of himself despite everything. When he died, my mother sold most of the jewelry to pay bills, but she kept that ring, gave it to me when I turned eighteen. Said it was a reminder that we came from something, even if the world tried to forget it."
"And you gave it to Richard."
"Showed it to him when we were together. Told him the story. He was fascinated by it; said it was proof that his family's fortune had complicated origins." Nia's laugh was bitter. "He promised to help me research my father's real contribution, maybe even get some kind of official acknowledgment. Instead, his mother took the ring and gave it back to him as a Hale family heirloom to give to his proper bride."
Amara spoke up, her voice small. "So that ring belongs to us twice over. Because it was Great-Grandmother's, and because my father gave it to you."
"Yes, baby. That's why I reacted so strongly when you said you'd seen that woman wearing it. It wasn't just about Richard; it was about our whole family history being stolen and worn by someone else."
Victoria felt sick. She'd been wearing a ring that represented not one, but two erasures—two acts of theft. "The photograph you had... did it show your father and Richard's grandfather together?"
"Yes. At the factory opening in 1922. Both their names are visible on the banner behind them, listed as co-founders. It's the only proof I know of that my father was ever involved. Everything else has been scrubbed from the official records."
"And now someone has it."