Daniel lowered the phone.
My hands had gone cold.
“She knew,” I whispered.
Richard’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes had changed. Whatever uncertainty remained in him had vanished.
Melissa cleared her throat softly. “Claire needs rest. Whatever this is, it can wait until morning.”
She was right, but morning suddenly felt very far away.
Daniel looked at the envelope in Richard’s hand. “I can testify where I found it.”
Richard nodded. “You may need to.”
The word testify made the room feel less like a hospital room and more like the first page of something official, something that could not be folded away and hidden in an entry table drawer.
Daniel turned to me. “I’m sorry for bringing this here tonight.”
I looked down at Noah, asleep and peaceful, unaware of trusts, secrets, favoritism, or the strange wreckage adults passed down and called family.
“No,” I said. “I think it was already here. You just carried it into the light.”
