Page 60 of Brutal Truths

Approaching the window, I let my gaze drift out over the ocean. Waves roll in and crash against the rocky shore, sending mist into the air that catches in the light.

Outside, Kimber walks the path with Bear trotting happily at her side, Grams moving along beside them, her head tilted toward the warm breeze like she’s soaking it in. She’s chatting about God knows what, and Kimber listens like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever heard.

A small ache settles in my chest as I watch them.

Is she spilling secrets? Or spinning outrageous tales?

My eyes drop to the envelope in my hand, and I swallow hard, my fingers tightening slightly around the edges. I’m not sure what I’ll find inside, but I know it matters. Another piece of the puzzle I’ve somehow found myself putting together.

Will it be more lies? Or the truth my grandfather has finally decided I can handle?

There’s only one way to find out.

Taking a slow breath, I run my finger along the sealed edge and rip it open. Inside are two letters. One is sealed with the royal crest my father once used, and it brings an immediate sting to my eyes. The other is folded.

With shaky hands, I unfold the second one first. It’s from my grandfather.

I blink, forcing the words into focus, trying to read it without letting everything else crash in at once.

My dearest Isabel,

It’s time you learned the truth. I’m sorry it’s taken this long for you to hear it. The decision to keep it from you was made before you were born. Not by me, but by your mother. She understood the risk in a way the rest of us didn’t. Recognized the danger you’d face if the wrong person found out about you.

She acted without my knowledge, deceiving me and several others along the way. I didn’t uncover the full truth until after her death, when a letter similar to this one found its way to me.

I won’t bore you with the details. You’ll read the full account soon enough in the letter she left behind for you. To ensure your safety, I honored her wishes and kept it buried, waiting for the right time to present itself.

Your confusion is understandable. I expect you’ll have questions, perhaps more than answers, and may even find yourself doubting the choices made by those who care about you. I can’t speak for the others, nor do I know their reasons. I can only tell you why I did it.

My relationship with your mother was a difficult one. Sofia had a habit of pushing against every rule I set, even the ones in place to protect her. She reminded me so much of your grandmother. The tighter you pulled on the reins, the more she fought them.

When she was in her early twenties, we had one of our biggest arguments. She defied me, so I made a choice I’ve regretted ever since. I cut her off, convinced she would come back when she was ready to follow my rules. She didn’t.

It’s a mistake that has stayed with me. One I think about every day and wish I could take back. When her letter arrived, I followed her instructions without hesitation. Not out of certainty, but because I owed her that much.

It didn’t take long to realize I hadn’t eased my conscience. It only shifted from your mother to you and has been there ever since.

I should have told you sooner. Sat you down when you were old enough to understand and given you the letter your mother intended you to read long before now. All I can do now is hope you’ll forgive me for what I’ve done and for what all of us allowed to happen.

Go easy on your grandmother. At the heart of it, she was only ever trying to honor your mother’s wishes. She’d planned to share the letter with you on your eighteenth birthday, but her memory started slipping years before that.

The responsibility then fell to me, and I made the decision to keep you in the dark. I’m a stubborn man and convinced myself it was the right thing to do.

There was always the concern that she might let the secret slip, but your tendency to brush off her unusual comments made it easier to keep the past hidden.

Too much is coming to light now, and the secret I’ve kept won’t stay buried much longer. Your mother has waited long enough to explain the decisions she made and why it was the right one.

The life you’ve lived, as protected as it was, has prepared you for what’s ahead. You’re stronger than you think, and you won’t be forced to face it alone. Your family will stand with you and protect you, making damn sure no one forces you into a life you didn’t choose.

No matter what comes, stay true to yourself. You will always be known as Princess Isabel Sofia Lopez Reyes, but that was never meant to be all you are.

You carry a heart that is greater than any crown, and it shows in the way you see what others overlook. Your ability to make sense of the broken and mend the shattered isn’t just a skill, but a profound kindness that is uniquely yours.

It reminds me of the physician in the book you once gifted me. He healed more than wounds. The year it began still holds the key.

Trust your heart. It has never failed you yet, and I believe it never will.

I love you, Isabel. I always will.