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She admitted to leaving the note and claimed Greg had children with her, words that felt designed to wound in the most vulnerable moment of my life. Unable to breathe in the weight of that revelation, I left the chapel and returned home to the quiet house Greg and I had shared. Searching for answers, I opened the journals he had kept for years, pages filled with everyday thoughts, memories of our life, and reflections on work.
There was no mention of another family, no evidence of a double life. Instead, I found entries revealing a professional conflict with Susan and her resentment over business disputes that had cost her company stability. The more I read, the clearer it became that the note was not a love letter, but an act of vengeance written to deepen my grief.
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