Part 2: Before my husband passed away, he asked me to deliver a sealed letter to a woman I'd never met — after she read the first line, she looked at me and asked, "Did he tell you everything?"

She had escaped Owen months earlier.

Had been living under a different surname through a women's shelter.

She was pregnant.

Owen was the father.

I closed my eyes.

Catherine cried silently.

Rebecca refused to contact her mother.

Not yet.

She believed Owen was still searching for her.

She had received a threatening message only weeks earlier.

She made Zane promise not to tell Catherine until she reached a protected placement after delivery.

He agreed.

Then my labor turned dangerous.

I knew this part.

Or thought I did.

I developed severe bleeding shortly after delivery.

I remembered shouting.

Then masks.

Then nothing.

I woke fourteen hours later.

Zane was beside me.

His eyes red.

A nurse carried in a baby.

Emily.

My daughter.

I reached for her.

I remembered Zane crying.

I had thought it was joy.

Now I looked at the next line.

Could not read it.

Catherine did for me.