Claire is stunned when she receives a cold letter from her beloved grandmother cutting all contact — especially since Grandma raised her. But something doesn’t add up. As secrets unravel, Claire uncovers a heartbreaking betrayal…

The letter came in a plain white envelope, my name written on it in Grandma’s familiar looping cursive. I smiled as I sorted through the rest of my mail, setting aside bills and flyers to open hers first. Grandma’s notes always brightened my day. I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

The smile froze on my face as I read the words.

“Please don’t visit me anymore. I’ve changed the locks. I need space and peace now. Don’t call. Don’t write. Just let me be.” The world stopped turning. The page trembled in my fingers. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the cheerful spring birds chirping outside my window. “What?” I whispered to the empty room. “This can’t be right.” I read it again. And again. Each time, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something that made sens . They didn’t. I paced around my apartment with the letter clutched in my hand. My mind raced through our last visit. We’d baked cookies. She’d taught me that trick with the vanilla extract, to add a splash more than the recipe called for. She’d hugged me tight when I left, like always.

Nothing had been wrong. Nothing. With shaking hands, I picked up my phone and called Jenna. My older sister answered on the fourth ring. “What?” Her voice sounded clipped, distracted. “Did you get a letter from Grandma?” I asked, not bothering with hello. A pause. Then, “Yeah. About changing the locks, right? No more visits, no explanation.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” I insisted. “Why would she—” “Look, Claire, I’m busy right now. People cut ties. Maybe she’s tired of us.” “Tired of us? Jenna, she raised us. After Mom and Dad—” “I know our history, thanks.” Her voice sharpened. “I’ve got a late meeting. We’ll figure it out later.” The call ended abruptly. I stared at my phone, feeling even worse. Jenna had always been the practical one, but this coldness felt wrong.

I tried Marie next. My younger sister answered right away. “Claire? I was just about to call you.” “Let me guess. You got a letter from Grandma?” Marie’s voice softened. “Yes. I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. I don’t understand what’s happening.” “Me neither,” I said, sinking onto my couch. “Jenna got one too.”

“Something’s wrong,” Marie insisted. “Grandma would never do this.” My unease grew. This was all of us, not just me. Grandma had raised us after our parents died. She’d been our rock, our safety, our home. Both my sisters and I visited her weekly since we’d left home. She never would’ve done this without a reason. “I’m going to drive over there tomorrow,” I decided. “She said not to,” Marie reminded me.