My Mothre’s Guilt journal Became My Cancellation Notice Chapter 07

Garrett returned from overseas three days after the family dinner.

When he came to the Sullivan house, he was dressed in a suit.

After he entered, he did not look at me first. Instead, he placed a sealed document envelope in front of my father.

“These are the original materials the Graham family received.”

When the envelope was opened, there were several photos of the accountability journal pages inside.

There was also a statement from the copy shop owner, the chat records from Tara sending the file, and a recording kept by the Graham family’s driver.

Tara had taken Celeste’s money, secretly photographed the contents of the accountability journal in the study, and taken the photos to the copy shop to be organized.

Later, afraid the Graham family would not believe it, she had someone take clear photos of several original pages as well, including my mother’s signature, and sent those over too.

Garrett’s voice was steady.

“When my mother saw Mrs. Sullivan’s handwritten signature that day, she believed the materials were real. Now that the truth is clear, the Graham family also bears responsibility for failing to verify them properly.”

My father’s face turned livid.

What he feared was not that I had been wronged.

It was that the Graham family had laid out the matter so plainly.

Garrett took out the engagement agreement next.

It was the original agreement between him and me.

A pressed-flower bookmark lay flat inside the cream linen folder.

He walked up to me and handed me the agreement.

“If you’re still willing to go through with this engagement, the Graham family will honor it. If you are not, I will personally explain to everyone that the Graham family believed false materials, not that there was anything wrong with your character.”

Celeste’s head snapped up.

My mother also looked at me.

They probably both thought I had fought this far to win back the Graham engagement.

I took the agreement.

The folder felt firm against my palm.

I thought of the flowers Garrett had sent me over the years. I thought of how my grandmother once said the Graham family had decent values, and that if I married into their family one day, I would not be looked down on.

I also thought of the accountability journal in the study.

Page after page, all of them filled with my name.

I put the agreement away.

“Garrett, thank you.”

He looked at me and said nothing.

I said, “But I don’t want to agree to this engagement right now.”

Garrett did not press me.

After a moment, he nodded.

“Okay.”

Someone in the dining room sucked in a breath.

My father snapped, “Ivy, haven’t you caused enough chaos?”

I turned to look at him.

“I didn’t investigate all this because I wanted to marry into the Graham family.”

My father’s expression froze.

My mother sat in her chair, her fingers slowly tightening around her handkerchief.

She finally understood.

I was not trying to win Garrett back.

I only refused to let them keep writing false blame under my name.

After that day, Celeste was sent out of town to “recover.”

They called it recovery, but in truth, she had been sent away to lie low.

Tara was fired.

My father took away the key to the keypad lock on my mother’s study drawer.

But I knew none of this was for me.

It was for the Sullivan family’s reputation.

I asked my father to return the small townhouse and the vintage couture atelier my grandmother had left me.

At first, he refused.

But the Graham family put in a word, and several relatives were watching him too. In the end, he nodded.

My mother did not come to see me again.

On the night before I left home, the housekeeper brought me a sheet of paper.

I recognized it at a glance as paper from the accountability journal.

On it was written:

[Today, my older daughter, Ivy Sullivan, left home. That is my failure as a mother. I failed to make her stay.]

The handwriting was shakier than before.

There was no signature at the bottom of the page.

As I looked at that sentence, my fingers still stiffened slightly.

A habit built over eighteen years could not be broken in a single day.

Tessa stood beside me and asked softly, “Ivy, do you want to burn it?”

I did not burn it right away.

I turned the page over and wrote one sentence on the back.

[This time, you don’t need to write my name under the mistake.]

After I finished writing, I had Tessa send it back.

When the housekeeper took the paper, her eyes were terribly red.

Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something.

In the end, she only lowered her head and left.