#HeTouchedMe – Chapter 26 – Zuri Finds The Truth #amwriting #amreading #sylLit

by @SylviaHubbard1, posted in He Touched Me, Stories By Author, Uncategorized, Work In Progress

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 Author’s Notes…

Wow, a lot has happened since we last saw Zuri and what was happening .

Husbter is building a new website. I’m praying and hoping it’s everything like I dream of.

I’m also working on another His Substitute Wife book.

Yeah, I know when I get something in my head I can’t let it go.

It’s going to be called His Substitute Husband… My BestFriend

Let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments and we’ll talk more later.

Enjoy. Happy Reading. Sylvia Hubbad

(click here to buy me a cup of coffee).

By continuing to read, you acknowledge that you are over 18. Otherwise, please leave this site and block it from your memory. If you’re a pearl-clutching heifer, please go too because I ain’t got time for that either.

Companion Books

Stealing Innocence 1

Black’s Innocence

Sin’s Iniquity

The Other Side of Love (WIP)

Tanner’s Devil

Dreams of Reality

Emperor’s Addiction / Heart

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…Enjoy. Happy Reading. Your author, Sylvia Hubbard

Chapter 26 – Zuri Finds The Truth

On top of the items in the box was a letter in a thick black envelope addressed to her. She recognized her father’s handwriting from the previous papers the lawyer had given her. Immediately, she placed it in her purse, then looked through the rest of the contents. it in her purse, then looked through the rest of its

Before touching anything, Zuri took a picture of the contents and their arrangement in the box. Her gaze lingered on a large diamond engagement ring in a clear ring box, the diamond the size of her middle-finger knuckle, its band thick and silver. It seemed poised to be presented, glimmering with significance. Nearby was a bright red envelope, sealed with wax and bearing the ‘B’ emblem. The mystery of the wax-sealed envelope captured her imagination, hinting at secrets waiting to be unveiled. The other items seemed to fade into mere details in the background: a small leather address book inscribed with ‘Wardenbridge’ in calligraphy, a photo album bound with rubber bands because extra items had been slipped between its pages, and a leather-bound envelope brimming with gold and silver certificates.

She gasped as she flipped through at least over a hundred of these certificates, all with the value of one hundred dollars each.

Was this what her mother was trying to get to?

Yet why couldn’t her grandmother get to this?

Zuri swiftly stuffed the items into her cloak, feeling the weight swing against her as she moved. Her heart pounded with urgency as she made her way to the stairs. Clutching the cloak tightly, she called the guard to let him know she was coming up.

He greeted her at the top of the stairs.

“Would there be somewhere I may go for privacy?”

“Ms. Cytee instructed me to let you use our small conference room, which is unoccupied, and I can guard the outside so no one will bother you,” he said.

She followed him down a hall on the main bank’s floor. The conference had only high windows closed, so no one outside could see inside. There was a table in the middle of the room for about ten people. She moved to the farthest point from the door, where she could see if anyone came in.

After this morning, it was the first time she had a moment to herself, but she was also still on edge about what had happened to her. Her throat felt tight, as if constricted by invisible hands, while her skin buzzed with a prickling sensation. Each breath was shallow, barely filling her lungs, as her heart raced with the echoes of recent events.

Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she pulled everything out of the cloak and then the letter. Staring down at the items in amazement, she concluded that her mother must’ve known there was something very valuable in the boxes. Most likely, Breanda discovered something after her father’s mother died and wanted to get her hands on it before Zuri could.

Had Rodney kept her occupied on purpose, working together with her mother so Zuri wouldn’t suspect anything? The prospect was chilling; it raised the stakes of the treachery tenfold. If Brenda and Rodney succeeded in their scheme, Zuri feared they might seize control not only of the wealth but also ruin the remnants of her father’s legacy, erasing her very identity in the process. The idea of her father’s sacrifices being exploited and her own freedom being tethered was unbearable. There were so many questions running through her mind about her mother and Rodney’s treachery. Yet, looking at the items in the box, she could understand how Magnum’s words could be true.

Opening the letter, Zuri could tell it had been written a while ago, and the top was dated a couple of days before her father’s death.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to read the letter.

Dear my heart, my Zuri

Your mother only let me name you. It seemed a ploy for control. I’m too unwell now to unravel her games.

If you are reading this, you have discovered the box. I hope you were given access to what my family left me before you were on your deathbed, unlike me. And I hope Brenda, your mother, has received the many letters I wrote to you over the years, to show I never left you. I was gone, but I never wanted you to forget you were loved and treasured.

That’s my hope that Brenda did the right thing.

Yet I know deep down she didn’t, and most likely destroyed the letters so you’d never know.

Let me start at the beginning…

I met your mother on a trip to Canada, where she worked, and I can’t say she seduced me. For a time, I thought your mother wanted something different. She’d moved to get away from her toxic found family she had been adopted in, from being a street kid from the time she was born. I fell hard in love with her, I will not lie, but as soon as she was pregnant with my child, she changed.

I can’t explain it, but I knew I had to protect you, so I married her immediately despite my family telling me not to and turning their back on me.

Once I lost all access to my family’s wealth, Brenda became worse to me. She showed me a side of mental cruelty I never thought I would experience. And unfortunately, when I couldn’t be around, you were privy to it as well. Blindly, I thought eventually Brenda would see you were her child and hurting you was wrong. Yet I was naive and stupid to follow my heart rather than my head when it came to your mother.

When you ran away, I spent time hiring someone to find you, learning that your mother had no intentions of ever loving me or you. Her whole goal had been to take my money. I recalled moments that gnawed at me, like the unsettling echo of her clipped nails tapping against the countertop when she thought no one was watching, or her voice, a low whisper that sliced through the air, suggesting you’d never amount to anything. Greed was ingrained in her, and no matter how much I loved her or how often I reminded her that you were her child, nothing would change that woman.

You see, your mother was jealous of you. She knew she needed a baby to keep me, but she was a truly selfish individual who didn’t want to share. With birthing you, she knew I would never love anyone else but my daughter.

I’d come home after a long day of work, and there were marks all over your skin. Brenda loved to pinch you. She said you were a horrible child because I spoiled you, but I think Brenda loved torturing you. I’d catch her sometimes, and she had trained you not to cry over it.

I worked my fingers to the bone to provide for us to make sure I could “pay” for child care away from your mother, but that still didn’t stop the nights of her hurting you or me. Zuri, all I can do is apologize for your mother’s treatment, and I swore I would do whatever I could to make sure you never remembered anything.

Unfortunately, you were damaged enough to start drug use, and that took you away from us. I can’t blame you. Your mother’s evilness drove you away from Detroit. I appealed to my father to help me behind my mother’s back. He had never been in agreement with the family turning their back on me, and he understood losing a child to the world.

So he gave me all the money and contacts I needed to do what I needed to do. Hire someone to find you and bring you back to me. And then find someone to help you never remember the life you had lived.

That’s when I hired Mitchell Knight, one of Atlanta’s best trackers, to locate you. During this time, I received guidance from Dr. Ardimis Baelen, an unlicensed psychologist known for his unconventional methods of behavior modification and cognitive behavioral therapy. After Mitchell found you, he betrayed my trust by exploiting the situation for his own gain. Frantic and determined, I then enlisted the help of another tracker, Del Heart, who managed to rescue you from Mitchell’s grasp. We kept a low profile until Dr. Baelen could step in to help you in his own way.

I know you’re going to hate me for what I’ve done, but I need the truth to come out, Zuri. I need you to understand I was desperate to get my baby girl back and repair what had been done to you.

Your memories are foggy for a reason. Dr. Baelen used hypnotherapy to envelop your past in a cloud, to shield you from its shadows. It was the only way, he said, to let you start anew, to let you plant your feet on solid ground unburdened by echoes of darkness. The therapy transformed memories into silent tapestries, dim corridors in your mind where lullabies whisper but never quite linger, accompanied by unnamed scents and faded faces. This fragile veil was meant to heal, ensuring you wouldn’t be shackled by a past that shouldn’t define your normal life.

I don’t regret what I did; I did it for you and out of love. And I’m paying the price now for my sins. The cancer immediately attacked at full force once I returned to Detroit, and I was immediately hospitalized.

You know how it went – fast. One moment, I was okay, and then three months later, I was laid in hospice, barely able to move.

I guess this is payment for what I allowed to happen, but I hope my sacrifice was worth it. I hope you are reading this, and I hope your life is just a little bit better with this discovery. I made sure the lawyer I hired set everything up the way I needed him to and carried out my instructions as I wanted.

I hope you find a love that allows you to accept all the good and the bad that have happened to you.

I documented some of the abuse in a small journal for a while, and then I documented your recovery. I told myself I would show you this once I got better, but as you can see, that didn’t happen. The ring was from my father. He took it from your grandmother before he died and hid it in the box without her knowledge. And the certificates were placed there when the box was originally opened, which my father said never to use. It’s our family’s legacy, which I now pass down to you.

In any case, there is a fallback for what I have done. If you want to remember, there is a red envelope that Dr. Baelen gave me. Inside, there is a phrase on a card that must be said; it will return the past to you.

Zuri, take that envelope seriously, and open it only when you know you are ready to accept what will unfold. Be so in love that your heart explodes. Be so happy that you really don’t need to know the truth. Be so relieved you forgot the past that would have held you back and drowned you in misery.

I don’t regret what I have done and will accept this cancer as the price for saving you. My hope is that you will burn that envelope before opening it.

Most of all, remember everything I did was because I love you. My Princess. My Queen.

Your father, Benjamin Zachariah Prince Carter

Zuri had to sit back holding the letter, as if its weight shifted her very essence. Her father’s confessions hurt her, but his declarations really impacted her current mindset. Looking at the objects in front of her again, she was disturbed by the thought that her father would go to such lengths to make sure she forgot. Was the past that horrible?

Maybe this was why Zuri couldn’t feel animosity toward her mother despite the horrible things she was doing to Zuri.

Had her father been hopeful?

Picking up the bound album and carefully opening it, making sure nothing ripped or fell out.

The first picture inside was a picture of a hospital room where her father was holding her, and her mother was sitting on the bed, arms folded and looking away. Brenda looked disgruntled, while her father, happy, gazed down at Zuri.

The picture told the truth about what her father had said in his letter. The next pictures were of her, but in shots where her mother was present, Zuri could see her mother either shooting her a glare or looking at her in disgust.

Had her father gathered these pictures on purpose and put them here? She turned to a particularly shocking photograph: a close-up of Zuri’s bruised face, a haunting testament to the suffering she’d endured. Zuri’s hands trembled as she held the picture, her breath catching in disbelief. The details of this abuse felt both distant and painfully immediate, stirring a deep-seated hurt she couldn’t yet fully grasp. As she sat with the image longer, she braced herself for what was to come, dread hanging over her like a storm about to break.

She next glimpsed photos of other injuries, seeing herself covered with bruises and scars, old and new. Each photograph, stamped with a date and time, relentlessly exposed the brutal history she could not remember. Among them were not just pictures of herself, but also images of her father bearing similar bruises, their shared pain forming a silent bond through evidence. In a moment of crushing revelation, she uncovered other pieces of her past she neither understood nor recalled.

Zuri’s heart lurched as she flipped through the book and found pictures of her drug addicted, but then she also saw fake identifications for her as Queenie Prince with an address in Texas. In the pictures, she had to have been about thirteen, but the date on the pictures showed she was eighteen. Had she obtained a fake ID on her own?

She tried to remember that time in her life, but the fog rushed in, and her head began to hurt.

Picking up the red envelope, she wondered what was inside.

Everything inside of her told her not to open the envelope. Quickly, before she was tempted, she put the red envelope in the cloak pocket along with the ring and the certificates.

The journal also contained another fake identification card bearing her father’s likeness. In that one, he was Bennie Prince, with the same address she had on hers. Why had he needed this?

She continued to flip through the photo album. There were hotel bills inserted, and then she had to stop at one picture where she was sure she was looking at her young self, hands clasped with a younger Magnum. The picture looked like it was taken by someone stalking. As she studied the younger Magnum, a distant memory stirred within her. She caught a faint, almost-forgotten whiff of smoky air, like the scent of a fireplace and strong cedar whiskey, and it transported her momentarily to a room with dimming lights and soft, comforting music playing in the background. Trying to piece together these fragments, she looked closely at her disheveled self in the photo, unsure how old she was, but she had a feeling she wasn’t on drugs anymore. This certainty puzzled her as the fog rushed in, and her head began to hurt.

Staring at the man holding her hand, she was sure that was Magnum… or was it FT?

Then she remembered the FT words in the graveyard and wondered how he knew so much about her!

FT knew her!

Flipping through more pictures, she was sure it was the only one of FT. The others were of her curled up in rooms or sleeping. Her knuckles whitened on the album’s edge as she paused, absorbing the images. Then came a birthday when she was fifteen, looking healthier and almost back to normal.

The next page in the photo album only had a death certificate of an infant.

Had her father kept it?

She felt horrified, unable to remember any of this.

Rubbing her fingers tenderly over the paper where her tears were falling upon it, she looked at the name. Unnamed Baby Prince. It had been a boy. He died of intrauterine growth restriction. He was too small and born too early. At the bottom was an ink footprint so tiny that it was barely big enough to be the tip of her index finger.

Zuri ran to the nearest garbage can and doubled over as nausea swept over her. The metallic tang of bile filled her mouth as she retched, the sound of her sob echoing ominously within the bin like the haunting chime of a forgotten bell. Sliding down on the ground next to the garbage can, she buried her face in her hands for a long while. How could she not remember? Why would her father take those memories away?

Standing up and returning to the photo album, she forced herself to turn the page to see a picture of her taking a selfie with her father in his hospital bed. She was smiling, happy, and her father wasn’t looking at the camera. He had been looking at her with that same proud gaze he had on his face when she was born.

Don’t let your father’s legacy go to waste.

Closing the photo album, she slipped it into the cloak, along with the address book, then returned the letter to her purse.

There was still time to tour the lab, order what needed to be ordered, and then get back to the hotel to pack up her room. Should she still honor the contract with Magnum?

Now that she had the certificates, she could afford her own life.

No. Her father had said not to, so she wouldn’t. Then she remembered the accounts Jordyn spoke of. After grappling with the implications of her father’s letter and the discoveries in the box, Zuri knew her next move had to be decisive.

You want to stay with Magnum, she told herself. He’s the only one who has actually helped you, despite his brother. Or was he deceiving her, too?

There was the picture of her and possibly FT.

Magnum had to know something about it.

Or maybe she should go right to the source. Face up FT and show him the picture to get answers. Confronting FT felt like the most tangible step forward, offering the possibility of learning more about her own past and unraveling the many questions that still clouded her mind. Should she confront FT directly and seek the truth from the person who seemed to know so much about her?

If she couldn’t get answers from her mother, Zuri could at least get them from FT?

That was if either one of them was alive after all the fighting she had heard them doing? Gathering her items, headed out of the conference room to meet with Jordyn about the other accounts.

End of This Chapter | Post your thoughts in the comments | Let the author know what’s going on in your head

He Touched Me (c) 2026 Sylvia Hubbard All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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AUTHOR, MOTHER, SPEAKER, JOURNALIST, CONSULTANT & MORE! Divorced Mother of three, Detroiter, Sylvia Hubbard, is not only an award winning best selling author of over 28 books, but also founder of one of Michigan's largest interactive literary community, The Motown Writers Network/The Michigan Literary Network.

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