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PART 2
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It was a photograph.
Old.
Creased down the middle.
Black and white.
But I recognized the face in it instantly.
My fiancée.
The one I buried eighteen years ago.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Where did you get this?” I whispered.
Emily wouldn’t look at me.
Grace was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
“We found it last year,” Emily said.
“In a box in the attic.
The one you told us never to open.”
“I kept that box locked for a reason.”
“I know, Dad.
But we had to.”
“You had to what?”
Grace reached into the second towel and pulled out a folded letter.
She placed it on the table beside the photograph.
“Read it,” she said.
“Please.”
I unfolded the letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
It was my fiancée’s.
She had written it three days before she d*ed.
My eyes went to the first line.
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“To whoever finds my girls…”
I stopped breathing.
“What is this?” I looked up at them.
“What does this mean?”
Emily’s face broke.
“Dad…
she knew about us before you did.”
I read the next line.
And the next.
And then my legs gave out.
What was inside that letter?
The full truth is more shocking than anyone could imagine.
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* * *
PART 3
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The letter was dated three days before the accident.
Three days.
Naomi had written it by hand, in the careful script I’d recognize anywhere — the same handwriting on the grocery lists she used to stick to the fridge, on the birthday card she gave me the year before.
“To whoever finds my girls,” it began.
My girls.
Not “my baby.” Not “my daughter.”
I replaced the lubricant in my husband’s bag with industrial glue after I caught him with my brother’s wife. At 2:00 a.m., the hospital called. “Mrs. Rollins, we can’t separate the two of them.” I arrived carrying six months’ worth of evidence in a folder tucked under my arm, but what I found inside his safe turned that affair into something far more serious.
Here’s how to clean dirty bed pillows to leave them white and smelling sweet
My husband kissed my forehead and said, “France. Just a short business trip.” Hours later, as I stepped out of the operating room, my heart
My husband left me and our six children for a fitness coach – I didn’t even have time to think of revenge before fate caught up with him
A WOMAN’S LEGS CAN TELL HOW HER IS…See More
