“Then why did you say adoption?”
“Because of this.”
She pointed toward Zane's letter.
I looked down.
I had only read the first line.
Dear Catherine,
I promised your husband I would protect the truth until my dying day.
My hands shook as I continued.
I kept that promise far longer than he ever intended.
What began as protection became cowardice, then habit, then a lie so large I no longer knew how to tell the people I loved that their lives had been built around it.
I stopped.
Zane.
Always so controlled.
Always precise.
He had hated unfinished sentences.
Now every line felt like him standing behind me, forcing me toward a door I did not want to open.
I read.
Thirty-two years ago, Daniel Bell died on the Millbrook highway.
Before the ambulance came, he was conscious for several minutes.
He knew I had been helping him look for Rebecca.
